The Night of the Widower
by LeeLee Rob
Summary: Jim's new wife appears to die during a European honeymoon with newlyweds Artie and Lily. But things are not as they seem. A familiar old enemy has gone too far this time! Jim and Artie's resources will be pushed to the limits. Lily's help is critical too. Conclusion to a trilogy, but not necessary to read the prior stories which are briefly recapped in a preface. 18 ch. COMPLETE!
1. Betting Men

**Preface**

This story is the third and final entry in a series started in The Night of the Lethal Horse and continued in The Night of the Recurring Nightmare. However, it is not necessary to read either of those stories first. Here's a quick summary of those stories:

In _**The Night of the Lethal Horse,**_ Jim experienced the worst solo mission of his career in the forbidding environment of the Badlands, South Dakota. During the mission, he realized that working without Artie's tempering influence led him to act impulsively and recklessly. It also left him without someone to rescue him when he needed it most. Jim's recklessness led to the death of an innocent child at the hands of the child's own demonic mother — a woman who also raped a bound Jim before the child's eyes. After the child freed him, Jim killed the mother and her even more brutal serial killer brother, Jake Criolla, the original target of Jim's manhunt. Both deaths were in self defense, but the experience left Jim emotionally shaken.

Afterward, Jim briefly returned to Washington to testify in a trial and meet up with Artie. However, as sequestered witnesses, Jim and Artie were permitted only a few minutes to speak to each other in the judge's presence. Artie could see that his partner was shaken, but could not learn more or help him. The two parted with Artie planning to join Jim for a restorative vacation in the antithesis of the Badlands: New York City. Fate — via train trouble — intervened and took Jim to Freehold, New Jersey. Jim was soon pleasantly distracted by horses and an intriguing young Russian born young lady who bred and trained them. But Kat Romaine wasn't entirely what she seemed and Jim's arrival threw a wrench in someone else's plans for Kat. Jim again underestimated the evil that a woman can do. Fortunately, this time Artie arrived in the nick of time to rescue Jim and a seriously injured Kat. However, duty called Jim and Artie away before Jim could consider his feelings for Kat beyond pure lust.

One year later, in _**The Night of the Recurring Nightmare**_ , Artie has resigned from the Secret Service to marry Lily Fortune and to trod the boards again. Before he left, Artie was deeply concerned about his best friend's well being. Artie urged Jim to find a mature partner who would temper Jim's recklessness as Artie had. Also worried about Jim's personal happiness, Artie encouraged Jim to use upcoming leave time to visit Kat Romaine, the woman that Artie felt might be "Jim's Lily". Just in case Jim didn't agree, Artie set in motion a prank to get the two together after Artie left for his extended honeymoon in Europe. Jim did make arrangements to visit Kat, then living and working on a horse ranch in Stockton, California. But before Jim could leave, duty interfered. Artie's prank — which he did not mean to trigger — was also inadvertently set in motion by a temporary mail room clerk. Thanks to Artie's deception, Jim believed Kat to be in great peril and was torn between duty and desire. With the accession and help of the President and Colonel Richmond, Jim finagled a few days to check on Kat before continuing to his mission in San Francisco.

Once in Stockton, Jim discovered Artie's prank, but it turned out that Kat was in great danger after all. Cesar Criolla, the eldest of the murdering Criolla siblings, escaped from prison in San Francisco. His crimes were as atrocious as his siblings and fate set Criolla on a path to intersect Jim and Kat's life. Jim saved Kat and several others from this evil man, but Jim — again operating without Artie to pull him back from the edge — failed to temper his rage as he pounded Criolla into submission. This act of revenge led to a potentially career altering hand injury for Jim.

Although the Stockton episode left Jim knowing he loved Kat, the two nearly parted ways. His injury, the uncertainty of his future as an agent, and doubts about how Kat's passion for the outdoors and horses could realistically coexist with Jim's nomadic life as a secret agent seemed too overwhelming for both of them at the time. Only the intervention of Stockton's matriarch brought the two stoically suffering — physically and emotionally —lovers together. After a simple justice of the peace wedding, they set off to join Artie and Lily on their honeymoon in Europe. The hope: that Jim could go several months without throwing a right-handed punch, giving his hand a chance to heal enough for Jim to resume his duties with the Secret Service.

 **Chapter 1 - Betting Men**

"I did it! You owe me twenty bucks, Artie!" Jim beamed as he raised a glass of cava in the quiet, romantic restaurant the women had picked for the evening.

"Yes, you did, Jim. I'm very proud of you," Artie smiled grudgingly. "I'll pay you next Tuesday when I get my allowance."

"Honestly, I can't believe the fuss you all are making over a man going four months without punching someone!" Lily shook her head and waved dramatically. Lily had married Artie and taken his name legally but continued to use "Fortune" as her theatrical name. "Kat, don't you think it's ridiculous?"

Lily and Kat had become fast friends, out of necessity as much as commonality. Artie and Jim, however much they loved their wives, were best of friends and thrived in each other's company. When Artie and Lily received word of Jim and Kat's surprise marriage and hopes to join them on their honeymoon, one look at Artie's delighted face settled Lily's response to one of gracious acceptance.

Lily and Kat did have a few commonalities. Both were raised to be fierce, independent woman. Both were raised by families conscious of good breeding, although Lily's family had one thing that Kat's did not: money. Whereas Kat's family had the thing Lily's mother coveted most: a royal background (even if Kat was penniless and exiled). Kat West had been born Ekaterina Romanov, a Russian countess descended from Catherine the Great and remotely in line to the thrones of Russia and Germany. However, Kat had rejected that kind of life even before meeting Jim, choosing a life of wearing denim pants, flannels and mucking stalls while caring for and training horses.

Both of the gals, as Artie and Jim often called them, enjoyed theatre, concerts, literature, museums, good food, wine and culture. Given the nature of the honeymoon, that gave them all they needed to bond even if Lily always dressed up, wore makeup and gushed enthusiastically and Kat wore pants every chance she could, abhorred face paint and leaned towards speaking softly and even stoicism.

"Kat, Lily asked you a question," Artie gently reminded Kat, who seemed to be even more self-contained than usual this evening.

"I'm sorry, Lily. My mind was wandering. What did you ask me?" Kat suppressed a yawn.

"It wasn't 'how boring do you find our company?'" Artie joked with a wink to let Kat know he wasn't really upset.

"I just wondered if I was the only one who thought it a bit silly to celebrate someone not throwing a punch in four months? It isn't exactly normal behavior, after all, punching folks all the time!" Lily said with dramatic flair.

"It is if you are a Secret Service agent," Jim answered taking Kat's hand in his and worrying at her being tired so early in the evening, at least by Spanish standards.

Kat shrugged. "You can't always talk yourself out of a bad situation."

"I can," Artie laughed, trying to lighten the tone of conversation.

"Liar," Jim said.

"Okay, but you can try. Some of us try better than others," Artie jibed playfully.

"You mean used to try, Artie. You're retired now," Jim gently reminded him.

"Which brings up the awkward question of what your plans are, Jim? As the hand seems to be healing well, what are you thinking the future holds?" Artie probed with a caring tone.

"I've got a good ways to go before I can dependably fire a gun accurately or be confident throwing a punch with my right hand, so no decision yet, Artie." Jim was rested, relaxed and didn't seem the least bit anxious when he said it, much to Artie's relief.

"Does that mean you two have decided to extend your stay as have we?" Lily asked with genuine affection for Jim and Kat.

"If you don't mind, Kat and I discussed it and we think one more month away seems about right."

"Mind it, Jim? We're delighted. Lil and I spoke about just yesterday," Artie thumped a hearty slap on Jim's back.

"Yes, indeed. To another month of carefree honeymooning!" Lily toasted. "If you could add one more month, you two could stay to see my debut in the West End. I'm sure you two could find something to do during rehearsals!"

"One month, and then we'll see," Jim said and Kat nodded. They all joined in clinking glasses.

As dinner wound down, but before the flamenco dancer emerged, talk turned to tomorrow's plans. "Ladies, can't we twist your arms to come to the bullfights tomorrow evening? Señor Suarez has invited us to join him in his private box and I can promise you a surprise or two if you come," Artie sweet talked.

"No, I couldn't," Kat said looking physically ill at the thought.

"I'll stay behind with Kat," Lily said protectively. "I like the pageantry, but the killing of the bull isn't to my taste either."

"I suppose we could pass on it too," Artie said.

"We could, but it would disappoint Señor Suarez. I don't think that's entirely wise if we plan to stay in Madrid for another week or two," Jim argued.

"Really, it's fine with me if you go all go. It's just not my cup of tea," Kat apologized.

"Oh, don't let Artie fool you, Kat! Five bucks says he turns his head away when the bull is killed," Jim smiled.

"Honestly, one day I'd like to see you two try to settle up on your inane bets!" Lily challenged.

"Jim owes me $423.25," Artie announced earnestly. He was promptly showered with a spray of sparkling wine from Jim's mouth as Jim couldn't suppress the laugh at the assertion.

"Make that $424.25 including laundering," Artie quipped.

"Ah, thank God, the real entertainment has arrived," Lily toasted as she patted Artie dry with her napkin. The group quieted down to enjoy the flamenco dancer and guitarist who had just arrived on stage.


	2. Lilies

**Chapter 2 — Lilies**

"Do you and Lily have plans for this evening?" Jim asked Kat after siesta as he began to dress for the evening's bullfights.

"No, we'll probably just stroll the shops and have some tapas for dinner."

"Ah, shopping, your favorite activity!" Jim winked at Kat who was still lying in bed.

"I can at least enjoy Lily enjoying it." Kat said yawning.

"Not enough siesta time, my love?" Jim leaned over and kissed Kat.

"That might be why I'm tired. Don't you start that again!" Kat yawned again.

"Married four months and you're already tired of me?"

"How about I'm just tired? This heat. Too much activity in this heat."

"Oh, but it was such good activity," Jim sat down on the bed and nuzzled her neck with kisses.

"Off with you!" Kat gently pushed him away with a theatrical flourish.

"You have been spending too much time with Lily!"

"Jim . . . ," Kat started in an unusually tentative tone and then stopped.

"What is it, Kat?" Jim suddenly began to worry that something was wrong with Kat. He braced his arms gently on her shoulders.

"Do you think we could find some time to go riding outside of the city sometime soon?"

"Oh," Jim sighed in relief. "Absolutely. I'll set things in motion on my way out the door. I should have realized."

"I just miss it, you know."

"And Schumann too. I'm sorry. Do you want to reconsider extending our trip?" Jim hugged his wife closely knowing how difficult it was for her to leave her special horse behind for so long.

"No, Schumann's fine without me," Kat pouted.

"Am I supposed to be sorry for that too?" Jim laughed and planted a kiss on her pouty lips. "We'll ride tomorrow, I promise."

"Soon, Jim. It doesn't have to be tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is. Otherwise, I'd begin to worry you were thinking of leaving me for a horse!"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Jim."

"They nearly did once. I'm not going to risk it again no matter what you say!"

"Go enjoy the bullfights before I have to show you how I feel again," Kat shooed Jim away to the shaving table as she rapidly threw on the dress she'd worn that morning. "I want to run and have a quick word with Lily before you leave."

When Jim arrived in the lobby, Lily was dressed to the nines on Artie's arm. "Someone had a change of heart?" Jim asked.

"I'll turn my head away at the end, but it's awfully hard not to see some of the spectacle while we're here. Kat was gracious enough to understand."

"Speaking of Kat, where is my lovely bride?" Jim asked.

"She said something about going to take a long, tepid bubble bath," Lily smiled.

"Then I suppose we should be off," Artie said.

Jim looked wistfully up the stairs before following Artie and Lily out the door.

An hour later, after her lukewarm bath, Kat settled into a chair with a thick copy of Les Misérables, which she'd bought in Paris and was three-quarters done. A knock on the door startled her.

"I have flowers for you, Señora."

Jim would do something like that, Kat thought, as she went to the door. Only Jim's repeated admonitions of caution made her stop and look through the peephole. She recognized the owner's son, Ramon, who did triple duty as desk clerk, bellhop and errand boy. He set an arrangement on the entry table as Kat fumbled for a tip. Her appreciation for receiving flowers dissipated a bit when she saw it was all lilies, the smell of which she had never liked nor their association with funerals, but of course Jim had little occasion to know of her aversion. Kat plucked the card from the vase and opened the blank envelope. "To my darling, Lilia."

Kat felt slightly relieved she would not have to keep the lilies. She took the flowers in hand and ran after Ramon to let him know they weren't for her. Ramon didn't know any Lilia staying in the hotel. It seemed obvious to both of them that the flowers could be for Lily given it was an arrangement of lilies, albeit with a misspelled note, but Ramon didn't have time to look into it then as he was on duty alone. He explained the florist was just three blocks over and his little brother Tomasito was the one who'd delivered the flowers just a few minutes ago. Kat asked directions to the florist. If they were in fact meant for Lily, she'd clear it up and get the card rewritten properly.

The sign on the florist's door read "closed," which Kat found odd given she'd received the flowers minutes ago and Tomasito was supposed to be going back to the shop. Through the window in the door, however, Kat could see a large woman behind the counter. Kat knocked twice and tried the knob. It was open. Kat entered, greeted the woman, but received no reply whatsoever. Kat moved closer to the counter. The corpulent woman looked at Kat blankly as she spoke, staring at her fixedly. Kat began to feel unnerved.

"Welcome Countess!" a reedy lilting voice called from out of sight. Before Kat knew what was happening, she was being held aloft from behind by an extremely tall man. Hard as she tried to wriggle, kick and elbow, she could not break out of his grasp.

"What is this?"

"Vengeance against one James West," the voice said as its owner stepped out of view from behind the large woman.

"You're that horrid little man Jim has told me about!"

"Horrid? I'm extremely personable, unless of course you provoke me."

Kat began to scream hoping to get outside attention. The giant behind her released one hand from her waist her and covered her mouth. Kat bit him, but he didn't loosen his grasp appreciably.

"You're not playing nice, Countess. I guess we'll have to do this another way. Kitten, if you please."

The large woman came over and slipped a moist cloth into Voltaire's hand as Kat futilely wriggled. Moments later, Kat was unconscious. Loveless slid her wedding band off her finger and played with it, his face covered with a look of sheer delight. "This is a surprisingly cheap offering from Mr. West. Too thin for an inscription even! I suppose there's a story behind it. Perhaps we shall become privy to that eventually. Oh what fun we shall have at Mr. West's expense!" Loveless danced around with the ring. "Voltaire, secure our precious package in the carriage. Then come back and meet me in the basement. You shall deposit the smaller body in the basement as I instructed earlier. Remember to put this ring on her left hand, the finger next to the pinky," Loveless said giddily. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Kitten, after I take care of a little timing issue."

"Then what, Doctor?" Kitten asked.

"We wait for Mrs. Gordon!" Loveless rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Ten minutes later, a small boy knocked at the now locked shop door. Kitten admitted the boy to the shop. The boy was chewing on the remnants of a large stick of candy, much of which smeared his face. Doctor Loveless revealed himself from behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, señor, the other lady, she wasn't there. My brother said she went to the bullfights with the men after all."

"Damn it. Yesterday, you told me that neither woman was going. That'll teach me to base plans on the word of a nine year old! What did you do with the flowers for the other one, you brat?"

"They are still in the cooler. I could only carry one arrangement at a time, and I took the one to Señora West first, the one you said was most important. When Ramon mentioned that the other woman wasn't there, that she went to the bullfights, I didn't run right back for the flowers. I went for a treat first. I can take them now, if you want?"

"No, don't bother now, Tomasito. I've accomplished my main objective. It will probably work out better this way anyway. One can overdo a practical joke on old friends, after all. Now listen carefully. I want you to sweep and mop up the shop floor until not a speck of dirt can be found upon it and then lock up before you leave, understood? That should take you at least half an hour, understood?"

The boy nodded. Dr. Miguelito Loveless tossed several pesos to the boy as Loveless and Kitten went out the back door to a covered carriage where Voltaire was already installed inside. Fifteen minutes later, a massive explosion devoured the flower shop and set fire to the adjacent row of shops.

Hours later, around nine-thirty, Jim, Artie and Lily returned to the hotel from the bullfights. "Lil and I will go wash up for dinner. We'll meet you and Kat at La Casa Vieja in half an hour," Artie said.

"I'm not certain I can eat after that spectacle," Lily scoffed. "In fact, it may be days before I can eat again."

"Perhaps a stiff drink would be good instead, my love," Artie offered.

"I should have stayed behind with Kat. Then again, maybe she should have been there. She might have appreciated watching the bull take his revenge!" Lily shivered at the recollection while still clutching the rose she had been given to throw to the matador had things turned out differently.

"I suspect that Kat would have thrown the rose to honor the bull had she been there," Artie said. "She certainly wouldn't have been impressed by the matador dedicating the fight to her, I can tell you that. You were very gracious, Lily," Artie nodded.

"Professional courtesy," Lily acknowledged.

Jim knocked on Artie's door five minutes later. "Artie! Artie!"

"Hold your horses, Jim! I'm coming." Artie's shirt was partly open and his face still wet from washing up. "What the devil is the matter?" Artie asked quietly so as not to alarm Lily.

"Kat's not in the hotel. She didn't leave a note in the room or with the desk," Jim said softly but anxiously.

"There wasn't any note for us that I know of. Lil, sweetheart, have you heard anything from Kat since we got back?" Artie called to Lily who was in the washing vestibule.

"No, Artie."

"Maybe she went for a stroll and intended to meet us at the restaurant?" Artie offered hopefully. "I'm sure she's fine, Jim." Artie patted Jim's arm.

"I hope." Jim had that "I've got a feeling" look that Artie knew well. "I'm going downstairs to ask around a bit more. I'll see you there."

"I'll be down in two minutes, Jim. Try not to worry."

"What's going on, Artie?" Lily came out with freshly retouched makeup after Jim left.

"Kat's not in the hotel and she didn't leave a note behind. Jim's a little worried. I guess I would be too. It is Madrid after all, and a woman alone at night could be vulnerable."

"I have more faith in Kat than that. I'm sure she's not wandering down dark alleys and that she wouldn't have gone anyplace dangerous, especially now."

Artie snapped his head up in question. "What's that mean, Lil?"

"It's not for me to tell, Artie," Lil turned her palms up dramatically and smiled cryptically.

"Women!" Artie huffed. "I'll be downstairs helping Jim find his errant bride."

"Maybe you can find out where that horrible smoke smell is coming from too while you are at it, Artie. It clashes terribly with my perfume."


	3. Denial

**Chapter 3 — Denial**

Jim's inquiries of guests in the lobby met dead ends. None of the guests had seen Kat at all in the last several hours.

Meanwhile, Artie questioned the night clerk further. The clerk suggested that Artie check with the owner's son who had been on duty before him. The family lived only a block away. As to Lily's inquiry, Artie did get an answer about the smoke smell. He didn't mention it to Jim, however, not wanting to worry him unduly. What were the chances that Kat was near the fire anyway? That said, Artie was a natural worrier. He jotted a quick note for Lily and pulled Jim out with him to go visit the owner's home.

Except for the lingering smell of smoke that wafted in and out on the evening breeze, the walk to the small hotel owner's house was pleasant. The street, though narrow, was clean and brightly lit by gas lamps. The houses were exceptionally well maintained. Several children played with a ball at the far end of the street. However, no one answered Jim's persistent knocking at the owner's door. Meanwhile, Artie walked to the end of the block to talk to the children. Jim met Artie halfway down the block.

"No one's home, Artie. Did those kids have any idea where the family might be?" Jim asked with an expectant tone as if he knew Artie was about to unleash something Jim didn't want to hear.

"Yes, Jim. Apparently the youngest son, Tomasito, worked at the florist shop. There was a bad gas explosion and fire there earlier today. When he didn't come home for supper, the family went to look for him worried about, well, you know."

"Do you know any more?"

"No, but the fact that the family isn't back home still doesn't sound promising."

"I guess we should head back to the hotel and see if maybe Kat has shown up there and then maybe check the restaurant?" Jim suggested.

"Maybe so, Jim," Artie sighed.

"Artie, what's on your mind?"

"I don't know, Jim. You know that feeling you get sometimes, the one you had earlier for instance."

"I didn't say anything, Artie."

"No, after all these years, we don't really have to, do we, Jim?" Artie braced an arm on Jim's.

"Is there something you are not telling me, Artie? You're not suggesting that maybe Kat was near the fire. I mean, she wouldn't have been at the florist, I know that. Kat would rather pick a weed and put it in a vase." Jim's words were to calm himself, but he was tightening up with each syllable.

"Maybe she went to the scene to give support to Salvadore and his family?" Artie redirected him.

"That's something she would do." Jim relaxed visibly at the idea.

"Look, the fire was between the hotel and the restaurant, so why don't we backtrack, pick up Lily and then we can check both places simultaneously?"

Jim nodded in agreement. They walked back to retrieve Lily, with a hatched plan. Lily would proceed to the restaurant, avoiding the fire scene, to see if Kat was at the restaurant. Jim and Artie would assess the situation where the fire had been. Lily would bring Kat around as quickly as possible if she found her at the restaurant.

Jim and Artie stared at the gaping hole in the block where the florist shop had been and the burnt out stores on the rest of the block. Workers were glumly cleaning up the mess all along the block and carting out the debris. However, in the hole that was the florist shop, workers weren't cleaning up. They were digging in the fading twilight for something else. Artie and Jim saw both the industrious Ramon and his father the innkeeper, Salvadore, in front of the pit. Nearby a woman holding two young girls wept uncontrollably. It was Salvadore's wife. There was no sign of Kat, however.

"Can we be of any help, Salvadore?" Jim asked the personable innkeeper.

"No, Señor West, it is too horrible for words."

"Your son?"

"We believe he was inside when it happened," Salvadore wept openly, "my poor Tomasito!"

"Oh, how terrible. We are so sorry for you and your family," Jim said with deep sincerity. Little could be worse than losing a child. Artie echoed his sentiments.

Jim knelt down to address Ramon. "I know how difficult this must be for you too, Ramon. I'm very sorry for your loss." Jim offered the boy a hug which he readily took.

"Gracias, Señor West. He was a good boy, a hard worker, even if he sometimes was a terrible gossip," Ramon muttered through stifled tears.

"Part of growing up is learning when not to talk out of school, Ramon. He would have become a fine man, I'm certain," Jim consoled the young man.

"At least Señora West was not here when it happened," Ramon said with some relief.

"What do you mean, Ramon? Why would she have been here?"

Ramon explained the flower confusion of earlier to Jim. An hour or so later, Ramon had left the hotel upon hearing of the location of the explosion, worried for his brother.

"Ramon, did you see Señora West before you left?" Jim asked.

"I did not see her return, but I was not always at the desk during that time. She might have stayed out beyond when I left, but it could not have taken her very long at the florist to clear up the card. I'm certain she is fine, Señor West."

Jim didn't respond, not wanting to add to the boy's worries, but Ramon was perceptive.

"Please tell me she is okay, Señor West? She is so beautiful and she said she would teach me to ride a horse one day, out in the country, where we could fly through the fields. Please, tell me she is okay!"

"I'm sure she is, Ramon."

"But where could she be?"

"She may be meeting us at the restaurant." Jim caught Artie's face looking up the block, then turned his own. Lily was alone, shaking her head in the negative. Jim sank closer to the ground and hugged Ramon tightly as he closed his eyes and fought back fear. "She has to be okay. Somewhere, she has to be okay."

Artie stood near Jim, waiting for Lily to get closer. The look that Artie gave Lily made her race to his arms. "Artemus, what's happened?" Lily whispered seeing Jim on his knees clutching Ramon.

"It appears Kat might have been at the florist shop trying to clear up a mistaken delivery when this happened."

"Oh god no, Artie. Which one is the florist shop?"

"It's the giant hole in the ground, Lily. No one could have survived that." As Artie pointed, the last two men who had been in the pit came up a ladder to stop their efforts for the night.

Jim rose unsteadily to his feet. "Grab some shovels, Artie. I have to know. I need to know."

"Jim, it's too dark and dangerous. Your hand isn't up to that kind of heavy work yet either."

"I'm tired of being told what I can't do with the hand. Kat may be trapped down there somewhere. I have to try. I have to do something."

"Jim, people have been working at this for hours. We'd know if anyone survived by now."

Lily grabbed Jim by the shoulders. "Jim, listen to me for a minute. Kat left that horse of hers for this trip for one reason, to make certain that you gave that hand time to heal so you could do the things you love. Don't dishonor her by hurting yourself now."

"I can't just mill about. I have to know."

"Jim," Artie clasped a hand around Jim's back, "I understand. I feel the same way. So does Tomasito's family. They will stand vigil here through the night and help dig in the morning. But it is senseless to try to dig in that pit by candlelight, senseless and dangerous for everyone involved."

"Artie, Kat . . . It's not right, Artie. It's not right." Jim futilely fought back tears as he clutched Artie. Artie hugged him hard back and cried too.

"No, it isn't, Jim."

Ten minutes later, Jim pulled away from Artie's embrace. "What are we going to do, Artie?"

"We're going to go back to the hotel to try to get some rest so that as soon as the sun comes up we can get answers."

"There's no way I can sleep, Artie."

"I know. I said rest, Jim, not sleep. Let's get on back now unless you want to join the all night prayer vigil."

"Kat would scoff at that idea, Artie."

"That she would, buddy." There was little conventional about Jim's bride.

Artie and Lily helped Jim into his room. Artie fed Jim a spiked drink that would guaranty Jim got some sleep. The quality of it, well, that was out of Artie's control. The same would apply to Artie's night. Once Jim conked out, Artie stepped out and down the hall to spend a few minutes talking with and consoling Lily.

"I can't believe it, Artie. She skipped the bullfights because of the gore only to die in some freak accident. I don't understand it."

"Neither do I, Lil. Life can play wicked tricks on us."

"This one is beyond cruel. Artie, the thing I couldn't tell you earlier, Kat was pregnant."

"Oh Lily," Artie hugged his wife and cried.

"I shouldn't have said anything to you, but I couldn't hold it in. Please don't tell Jim. She hadn't told him yet. It would only make things harder for him."

"I agree, dearest."

"Will this ever make any sense to us?" Lily asked with tears flowing freely.

"No, Lil. To be honest, something about this isn't making any sense to me right now, but I'm too exhausted to see what it is. If you don't mind, I'm going to spend the night in the chair in Jim's room. Maybe, just maybe, I'll see what I'm missing by morning."


	4. Confusion

**Chapter 4 - Confusion**

Jim slept five hours like a rock, unlike Artie. Artie knew he'd be in trouble when Jim woke. Maybe the dose of tranquilizer was a little on the heavy side, but Artie hoped Jim would know it was for his own good. By the time Artie fell into an awkward cramped sleep, his lower half on the chair and his torso leaning onto the bed, Jim was beginning to rouse. Jim knew the feeling of being drugged, but there was more. What was going on? His head throbbed. His eyes were dry as a bone. And Artie was there. Kat was not. It wasn't a drug induced hallucination. Jim staggered to the washbasin and splashed water on his face.

In the reflection of the mirror, Jim saw Artie stir a bit. Jim was furious at Artie for drugging him, except he knew he'd have done the same for Artie. The sun would be up soon. He wouldn't believe Kat was gone until he found some verifiable proof. He'd been in the smoke and mirrors business too long, both as perpetrator and victim, to settle for anything less. Jim sat back on the bed and waited for the sky to lighten letting Artie continue to sleep. Jim remembered the last four months with Kat. He cursed himself for the year he wasted away from her, letting her leave St. Louis for Stockton without objection because Jim wasn't yet ready to acknowledge his feelings and didn't know what it meant for his future if he did. Not that Kat was any better in that department. It took another life and death crisis to push them forward, and they nearly blew that opportunity too. Now, when Jim was the happiest he had ever been, this happened. It made no sense. As if that was a criteria for events, Jim cursed silently.

Jim reviewed what he knew, trying to at least make factual sense of what appeared to have happened. Flowers delivered to the room by Tomasito with the wrong name, Lilia. They must have been meant for Lily.

"Artie, did you send Lily flowers yesterday?"

"What?" Artie wasn't yet awake enough to process what Jim asked.

Jim gave Artie a moment to rouse, then spoke clearly and slowly. "Did you send Lily flowers yesterday?"

"No, Jim."

"Did you order flowers for Lily at all?"

"No."

"So the flowers that were delivered to our room with a card for Lilia weren't even for Lily. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"Can we rewind a minute, Jim?" Artie shook his head trying to shake off the sleepiness.

"Did you overhear what Ramon said last night about the flower confusion, Artie?"

"Some of it, yes. They were delivered by Tomasito, and Ramon brought them to your room. It turned out they were for someone named Lilia. Kat wondered if they were for Lily, but a mistake in the room number was made," Artie said. "Did Ramon say what the flowers were?"

"Yes, lilies, which certainly suggested they were for Lily," Jim explained.

"Lily despises lilies. Fans are always sending them. It is so unimaginative and clichéd."

"But why did Ramon bring these flowers to our room in the first instance, Artie?"

"I don't know. Ramon should have been able to figure it out by the name on the outside of the card," Artie said.

"If there was a name on the outside. He didn't mention it and I didn't ask," Jim recollected.

"I follow you, Jim. What if there was nothing but a room number on the card or nothing at all? What if the card was intended to lure Kat to the florist shop?"

"Tomasito was in and out of the hotel like a butterfly. Ramon said he was a horrible gossip too. Is it possible someone enlisted him to entice Kat to go to the florist shop?" Jim asked with bewilderment.

"To her death? Why go to such lengths if you simply wanted to kill a young lady alone? Especially if you knew she was alone in her room?" Artie finished shaking his head. "Nevertheless, we should ask Ramon a few more questions. Let's hope he has answers."

"We also need to comb that wreckage. A lack of evidence may speak as loudly as the existence of evidence," Jim said with the slightest sound of hope.

"Jim, I don't mean to knock you down, but we should be aware we are conjecturing ourselves to the result we want to be true, not necessarily the one that is true."

"I know Artie, but I just can't accept this, not yet."

"I hear you, Jim, and I agree. Let's get some breakfast even if we have to make it ourselves and then head out to the site."

The cook had yet to arrive, so Artie made breakfast. Jim managed a few bites of some eggs that Artie made to go with yesterday's leftover tortillas. Artie wasn't convinced that Spaniards actually understood the concept of breakfast anyway. Instead, their days seem to start at lunch. Artie realized it was odd he was thinking such esoteric thoughts. Then again, almost any thoughts were better than the reality facing them. It was way of sustaining hope. As the bard said, "the miserable have no other medicine but only hope." Hope was a powerful tonic when faced with something as bleak as Kat's death.

At the site, Ramon's family remained or had returned, Artie and Jim didn't know which for certain. Ramon was fuzzy from exhaustion and emotion, but he was clear on one thing.

"No, señors, there was nothing on the outside of the card. Tomasito told me the room number and I delivered them."

Artie puzzled for a second. "Why didn't Tomasito take them up himself?"

Ramon smacked his hand on his forehead. "Now, I remember! He said something about flowers for another señora that he had to go back for right away. Except he never came back." Ramon dissolved into tears.

After consoling Ramon a moment, Artie and Jim both climbed into the hole with shovels. Jim promised to take it easy. If he had limitations, he wasn't noticing them as he worked. Everyone stopped in unison as someone else in the pit yelled that they found something. "¡Huesos!" Bones. Jim felt his heart skip a beat. He lost his breath. He felt like the lowest creature on earth when he hoped these bones belonged to anyone but his wife, maybe even a nine year old child. What was it that the philosopher of the day, Nietzsche, had said that sparked arguments amongst their little honeymoon group one evening? That "in reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man's torments." Jim and Kat had taken sides with the philosopher over Artie and Lily's favoring of Emily Dickinson's "hope is the thing with feathers." Fortunately the boys immediately had launched into a story involving tar and feathers that moved them all away from a serious philosophical discussion.

Now, however, hope was the dual-edged sword. Artie was amongst the first to respond to the cry of bones as Jim was lost in thought. Just as well. It was Artie who could make suppositions from bones, whereas Jim felt confident only in distinguishing horse bones from human bones, at least if they were major bones.

"It's a child," Artie reassured Jim very quickly.

"I . . . " Jim started to speak his shame.

"I know, Jim. Me too. It's only natural."

The sifting of debris continued for hours. Lily showed up with some lunch for Jim and Artie. Her eyes were puffy and she had not bothered to spend much time trying to conceal the fact. She hovered nearby as Jim and Artie resumed digging after lunch.

It was Jim who plucked the next find from the pit, a small shiny object buried under much debris. "Artie!" Jim yelled, clueless of the volume or tenor of his call for his friend, or that others around had stopped their actions and turned in consideration of the obvious terror of what Jim had discovered.

Artie spared no haste in getting to Jim who simply held the metal band and stared. It was the cheap thin general store wedding band he used to marry Kat with a still unfulfilled promise of replacing it when they got to Europe, a promise that neither had cared a whit about then or later. Kat had worn it proudly and happily. Jim had worried what people would think, but no one ever said a word. Kat didn't need expensive jewelry or clothes to radiate beauty. Her ring. Only her ring. Not a finger with it. Not a scrap of clothes. Jim's body trembled with anxiety.

"Oh," was Artie's sole comment for a few seconds as he braced his friend by the arms. "Nothing else?" he added as if troubled by the fact.

Jim shook his head listlessly.

"Where did you find it?"

Jim pointed. Artie dug with his hands through the rubble finding nothing human and nothing more that bespoke Kat had been there or died there. After another hour of searching, Artie suggested they exit the pit for a bit and rest. Jim sullenly nodded in agreement. A minute afterward they were out and sipping on some water when a shout rang out.

"¡Cadáver!"

Artie gently held Jim back. "No, Jim. Let me go look, please. Wait here."

Jim's body visibly shook but he stayed rooted to the spot as Artie asked. Artie returned a few minutes later. His sunken face conveyed his thoughts without words. Jim sank to his knees. Artie hugged his friend.

"Kat?" Jim croaked out weakly.

"Jim, I can't say conclusively. It's a young woman's body, consistent with Kat's height and age."

"But what?"

"Jim, you saw what happened to the boy. The body isn't completely intact. That limits my conclusions."

"Then we keep digging," Jim said with a bravado that his words and body did not support.

"No, Jim. Let others keep at this while we take a break. I'd like to locate an expert so when the time comes, we can know for certain."

Artie had sucked Jim's hopes away and Jim was too worn out to keep going. Everything was about to stop for siesta anyway, lest more people be lost to heat exhaustion. Jim and Artie returned to the hotel's drawing room. The owner, Salvadore, was back at work, but with the same hollow lost look as Jim. He served them sangria and rolls.

"Señor West, I am so sorry about your wife and that my son's mistake may have played a role in her death." Salvadore's hands trembled as he served the men.

"Salvadore, I could not place any blame upon your son for such an accident," Jim said.

"If he had just been more careful and delivered the flowers to the right person."

"He was just an errand boy. He didn't prepare them or write the card. And in any event, it was an accident," Artie said to console the grief stricken owner. "But wait a moment, who did arrange the flowers? What happened to that person?"

"Artie, now that you mention it, isn't it odd that there wasn't anyone at the site looking for another employee or the shop owner?"

"You're right, Jim. Salvadore, do you know who owns the florist shop?"

"Sí, Señora Gomez has owned it forever. In the last year, she has suffered much hardship, however, and the shop has often been closed while she has been away."

"Did she have any employees?" Artie asked.

"Yes, I remember she complained about the girl, that she was careless with the flowers and she cost her many pesetas of inventory. Tomasito liked her, however. He said she was muy bonita and she would give him pieces of candy in addition to money for his help cleaning up the shop."

"Her name? Do you know it?" Jim asked.

"Only the first name, Rosalita. I don't know anything more about her."

"What about Señora Gomez, where might we find her?"

"If she was not in the shop when the accident happened, I do not know. I do not know where she lives, but had she been in the city, she would have heard and come to the shop yesterday. I recall she has family in Toledo, but that is as much as I know."

"Jim, I think maybe after a bath and change of clothes, we should head back to the Calle Bolero and ask some questions."

Jim nodded. Hope, that wondrous possibility and dangerous deceiver, had begun to take root. But if Kat hadn't been killed, where the devil could she be?


	5. That Deceiver Hope

**Chapter 5 — That Deceiver Hope**

Artie checked with the crew that had resumed digging post-siesta and left them with information where he could be found if they located more of the body. He and Jim went to question the shopkeepers across the street and anyone milling about.

Shopkeepers involved in the clean up confirmed that Señora Gomez had been in Toledo for the last several weeks. She had let the neighbors know that she was looking to sell the shop, although none were interested in buying a florist business. She had refused to sell the property alone, dismayed that she would ream no value from the business at which she toiled for many years if she did that.

As to Rosalita, the shop girl, no one had seen her in several days. In fact, to all appearances the shop had been closed for several days before the accident. One neighbor did think she'd seen someone inside, but he didn't think it was Rosalita, as the woman was very fat. Maybe the shop finally had been sold, the man speculated. As to where Rosalita lived, she was a young woman, so the best suggestion anyone offered was to ask other young people. Jim set off to do that, while Artie went to follow up on Señora Gomez's present location.

Artie found the slightly dilapidated house of Señora Gomez a few blocks from the shop. A small garden by the front stoop was neglected and overgrown. No one was home. Artie visited the homes of several neighbors before he finally put together a few facts. Señora Gomez had a sickly grandchild whose parents could not afford her medical care. Moreover, to earn enough money for care, the mother had to go to work, so they needed help at home caring for the child. Señora Gomez frequently neglected her own business to go help them. Just three days ago, a friend at the end of the block received a letter from Señora Gomez saying say she had finally found a buyer for the business. She begged her friend to inquire if anyone in the street wanted to buy her house. Artie asked to see the letter and made a note of the return address should he need to talk to Señora Gomez in Toledo later.

After an hour of inquiries, Jim located Rosalita's home by asking young men in the area about her. Rosalita was much sought after by the young men and, according to her mother, she was too compliant. The bitter mother spat out that Rosalita had been fired from her job early in the week. Rosalita said it was because the shop was being sold to a new owner, but her mother knew better. She was certain that her daughter's worthlessness and poor work ethic led to her termination and she threw Rosalita out of the house. Rosalita took a bag of her possessions to work on her last day, three days before the fire, and then disappeared. Her mother speculated she'd probably run off with some derelict boy and "good riddance." Inquiries to Rosalita's friends provided no additional leads about her current whereabouts or the name of the "derelict" boy.

Jim returned to the hotel afterward. Poor Rosalita, he thought. Death might be a better fate than returning to that poor excuse for a mother, he thought wistfully, but without much guilt knowing he remained clueless as to what actually happened to Rosalita. Besides, she'd gone missing days before the fire. Jim was stretching things awfully far trying to rationalize the body was Rosalita's instead of Kat's. The missing fat lady was a more likely candidate, but probably as big a stretch too because no matter how Jim rationalized things, Kat was still missing and Jim found her wedding ring in the pit.

As soon as Jim entered the hotel, he saw Ramon. Jim hated to pester the grieving boy, but he had to get to the truth. Three women including his wife could not be located. The body of one had been in that building.

"Ramon, this is very important. Did Tomasito tell you anything about the shop being sold and a different woman working there?"

"No, Señor West, he did not say anything about it being sold, but now that you mention it, he did say something about a new woman working in the shop. Let me try to remember." Ramon paused a few moments trying to recollect a few minor moments in week that had shattered his family's lives. "Yes, he said that he missed Rosalita, that he hoped she'd come back soon, that the other woman although she was nice was not so pretty even if she liked candy as much as Tomasito."

"Did he describe this other woman?"

"Not in words, but with his hands and face, señor, like this." Ramon held his breath to puff up his cheeks and used his hands to outline a fat body.

"Did he tell you anything else at all, no matter how unimportant it might seem, about anything going on at the shop this past week?"

"He said that Rosalita had come into the shop with a small bag on her last day of work and gotten into a shouting match with the other woman, the fat one."

"Did he hear any of it?"

"No. He said that the woman made him leave the shop. Rosalita was gone when he got back, and Tomasito was sad because he wanted to at least say goodbye to her."

"Did he mention anything else, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem?"

"There was a strange comment he made when he was talking about how fat the new lady was. He said something like she had very oddly shaped friends too. I didn't know what he meant and I was too busy with work to ask. Besides, papa told me not to encourage Tomasito's gossiping."

Jim thanked the young man and retreated to his room, exhausted and uncertain of what he accomplished or hoped to accomplish. Kat was still missing. He could conceive of no reason why she would be missing if she hadn't been killed in that fire. They were happy. True, they were deferring decisions about Jim's career and where they would live, but as long as they were together, they would make it work. Jim picked up the wedding band he'd placed atop the book Kat had been reading on the side table. He grasped it in tightly in his closed fist as if he could wish her back that way. Then he opened his palm and let it slide back onto the table, a sad reminder of a reality he was not ready to face. His head shook as he looked at the title of the book she'd left on the nightstand: Les Misérables.

Jim took the book in hand and curled up in the bed with it. Jim had read Les Misérables many years ago. While he understood its epic power, it meandered a bit much for his personal taste. That and when Jim first read it, he was put off by how coincidence played such a large role in the tale. For instance, the villains of the book, the Thenadiers, popped up in different locales in France over the years, playing a pivotal role in several plot lines. Funny, Jim thought, still holding the book but not reading it, that bothered him less now. Jim had experienced his own version of that. He'd had years of engagements with dastardly villains who seem to reappear in his world just like the Thenadiers in Les Misérables. He opened the book up and began to reread it.

Jim quickly fell into a restless sleep, with the book lying atop his chest. He awoke with start. The book fell off his chest onto the floor, thudding loudly. Jim's breathed shallowly as he confronted the horrid thought that woke him: a thought about coincidence and a fat woman with oddly shaped friends.

Jim mulled it over as he became more lucid. When had Kitten last been seen? In the lake? There had been later encounters with Loveless, but without Kitten. Odd shaped. What a strange turn of phrase Tomasito had used. Maybe Jim had misinterpreted Ramon's description in Spanish. Jim was fluent, but not a master of nuances. He'd run it by Artie. Besides if Loveless had stooped to such a thing, why wouldn't Loveless have contacted Jim by now? Right, like he wouldn't let Jim suffer first. But to take Jim's wife, that wasn't something Jim really could see Loveless doing, any more than Jim could ever try to get to Loveless through Antoinette. Now there was a lady he'd not seen in a while, not in his last several encounters with the evil dwarf. Jim shook his head in disbelief at what he was thinking. Doctor Loveless, I've drummed him up to give that demon hope wings.

Jim walked to the desk to see if Artie had left a message. He had. "Jim, please take Lily to dinner. Took a fast trip to Toledo to learn more about Señora Gomez selling her shop. Hope to return no later than early evening tomorrow."

"Damn," Jim said aloud. He'd hoped to talk to Artie about the wild hair he'd gotten. He wouldn't think of raising it with Lily. He thought it through and could almost have laughed but for his deep grief. He'd imagined a scenario with a kidnapping of Kat by Dr. Loveless as a better scenario than Kat dying in an accidental explosion! It kept her alive and healthy, so why not? Then Jim remembered something Ramon had said about the flowers, that Tomasito said he had some for another lady. The inn was tiny — eight rooms. What if the other flowers that Tomasito intended to bring were for Lily, intended to induce both she and Kat to go out to florist? Lily's last minute decision to go to the bullfights might have saved her from . . . from whatever Kat's fate was. Could Lily be in danger now? Jim ran up to her room. He would stick by her side like glue until Artie returned even if the whole idea was manufactured by his grief stricken brain.

"One minute, Jim." Lily opened the door two minutes after Jim had checked on her at one minute and she had begged for another minute. She gave Jim a bracing hug. "I take it you know more about Artie running off to Toledo than I do?"

"Not much. We are still trying to ascertain who was in the store."

"You mean when it exploded?"

"Or before. Tomasito wasn't the florist. Someone had to make those flowers and the card."

"Yes, Jim, but couldn't the florist have done that and left the shop for a few minutes or hours? The Spanish seem to close up shop on any whim."

"And she's never shown up again? Maybe hers is the second body they found. Before Artie left he was arranging for an expert to come look. The problem is that we don't know much about the new woman in the shop except she was fat. An expert may be able to look at the bones and say something about the weight they bore, but Artie couldn't."

"Jim, just a thought. If it was just a recently hired employee, and she wasn't at the fire, why expect her to come back to the shop? The job would be over after all. I doubt she could demand a paycheck, plus we know the owner was out of town."

"You have a good point, Lily."

"But what, Jim?"

"I hope you don't mind if Artie and I keep digging — metaphorically — for a bit. We can't be satisfied with easy answers that don't match the evidence."

"You mean a ring without a finger?"

Jim nodded.

"No, Jim, I would expect no less of the both of you."

"Even though Artie is retired?"

"We don't retire our friends."

"Thank you, Lily. Let me take you to dinner. I know that neither of us have much appetite, but I think we need to eat something."

They had a quiet home style meal at a small restaurant near the hotel. When they came back, Jim followed Lily into her hotel room. "Lily, I uh, this may sound awkward and inappropriate, but I'm going to ask anyway. Would you mind if I spent the night in the chair in your room?"

Lily looked aghast. "But what would mother say?" Lil said earnestly before she let out a small laugh. "What's going on, Jim?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just don't want to be alone?"

"No, but under the circumstances, just this once, I will let you get away with a whopper," Lily nodded with her full complement of charm.

When Lily was ready, she let Jim know. Jim spent an uncomfortable night spread out along two chairs, his gun at his hip just in case. Unfortunately, his gun didn't help keep the nightmares at bay.


	6. Deviations from the Playbook

**Chapter 6 — Deviations from the Playbook**

The next morning brought bits of news. A telegram arrived saying that Artie's expert was to arrive that afternoon. After breakfast, Jim took Lily by the site of the florist shop disaster to make further inquiries. Someone had to have interacted with the fat woman and at least have an idea of her height or age, some fact that would help ascertain whose bones were found yesterday. They could be hers, Jim rationalized. The only problem was Kat's ring. He'd found it himself in the debris pit.

Then again, Jim thought, the ring wasn't particularly close to the woman's body they found. Why would it be so far from the body? Jim called upon his expertise and experience with explosions to try to understand the separation of the ring from the body, but it was too painful to imagine Kat being in the explosion at all, let alone visualize what might have happened in slow motion. Worse still, Artie said the body wasn't intact, so Jim knew he could make no conclusions no matter how hard he thought about it. Artie probably pondered it too, but he hadn't said anything. Artie likely had tried to spare Jim the painful details and Jim was just grasping at straws.

Jim's mental jockeying ending suddenly when one of the diggers in the pit screamed. "Un cráneo!" Jim urgently turned away from Lily as he heaved his breakfast. "Not intact," Artie had said to protect Jim, underselling what had to have been Artie's own horror.

Lily pulled Jim to her in a hug. "Oh Jim, I'm so sorry. Artie should have told me. I'd have kept you away."

"Finding it will at least make it easier to know the truth," a numb Jim uttered softly.

"I don't understand, Jim."

"I'll spare you the details and just tell you It's far easier to identify a body with a skull," Jim said, leading Lily to shiver in response.

Two workers wrapped the skull with great care and delivered it to the top of the pit. A government official took the wrapped skull as Jim set upon him. The man could only tell Jim the skull was that of an adult. He welcomed Señor West's expert to visit later. The sooner the body was identified and disposed of, the better for everyone, the official assured Jim.

Jim and Lily were about to return to the hotel to await Artie and the expert when it occurred to Jim that while he found out no more about the fat woman, there were things he'd failed to ask about Rosalita that now seemed more crucial. Maybe she hadn't really run away. Maybe she'd been staying in the basement of the building? Sure, Jim knew he was spinning tales to keep hope alive, but why not know more about Rosalita before meeting with the expert on human remains? Teeth were always key. Were any missing? Were any oddly shaped? Had there been any dentistry work done? The set of the eyes could matter too. All this took Jim to the maudlin place of visualizing Kat's face, Kat's smile. He began to withdraw into himself as he and Lily walked towards Rosalita's home.

Questioning Rosalita's mother took little time. She was hostile that Jim questioned her certainty about Rosalita leaving with a boy and going far away, but she condescended to answer just to get rid of Jim and Lily quickly. Rosalita was missing two teeth, one up top on the right, and one on the bottom, same side. The mother complained Rosalita was addicted to candy, had terrible teeth and that it would have been easier to yank them all rather than listen to her incessant complaints.

Jim and Lily returned to the hotel around one o'clock. Both were picking at the lunch that the innkeeper served them in the salon when Artie returned from Toledo. Jim could see that Artie was bursting to tell him something, but not in front of Lily.

"Was your trip productive?" Jim asked.

"Sort of. Mostly it was confusing."

"Do you two need a few minutes?" Lily finally caught on that Artie did not want to speak in front of her, but after having been away he was reluctant to ask Lily to leave either.

"Maybe you could get some Sangria to help us wash down lunch?" Jim asked skirting the truth.

Lily arose immediately. "I'll get some food for you too, darling. I know you couldn't have had anything decent on the train."

Artie could barely contain himself once Lily exited. "Jim, the shop was sold over a week ago to a very large woman with a pretty face who spoke only elementary Spanish and whose name was — are your ready for this? — Gatita Cinnamor."

"Seriously, Artie, seriously? Kitten without love?" Jim's face froze in shock as he said it. He had trouble getting out the next words. "Damn. Loveless is behind this!"

"And here I was trying to break that theory to you gently," Artie said with a puzzled look. "What did you learn while I was away?"

"Tomasito remarked to his brother that the large woman who had taken over in the shop had oddly shaped friends."

"Getting from there to Loveless took a bit of stretching," Artie said before he winced. "Bad choice of words. Hell of a deduction though, Jim."

"What else did you learn, Artie?"

"Since Señorita Cinnamor wasn't fluent, particularly as to business matters, her lawyer negotiated the entire deal and she simply signed the papers."

"I don't suppose the lawyer was under four feet tall by any chance?"

"No, but on more than one occasion the lawyer ran outside to talk to someone waiting in a coach whose head barely came up to window height," Artie said.

"Why would Loveless buy the florist shop?" Jim asked.

"Suppose he saw us in Spain? He's always trying to kill us, but he can never do it in a simple manner."

"But buying a florist shop as a prelude? That makes no sense."

"We're presuming that everything went as planned and didn't go off the rails as his plans often do. Suppose the flowers were supposed to arrive earlier, but the boy was late with them. Who would have run them back to the florist upon discovering the confusion? You or Kat?"

"I'd have done it. I'd have assumed they were for Lily just like Kat did, and I would have taken them back."

"Even if Kat volunteered to do it?"

"Yes, because I would have realized that I should get her some too. I couldn't allow you to outdo me on that front!"

"Loveless would expect that, Jim."

"You're suggesting he meant to lure me, not Kat?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he realized that he could have better revenge upon you by hurting someone you love and leaving you behind alive to suffer?"

"Or maybe he has Kat and this is all a smokescreen? He's just twisting the knife before making his demands." Jim's right fist was clenched and pushing down on the table.

"It's possible, Jim. If he killed Kat, I'd have expected him to send some gloating note by now, something so falsely sympathetic as to curdle milk. I take it there is no such item?" Artie asked rhetorically, receiving a confirming shake of Jim's head in response anyway. "Is there any more news from the site?"

Jim sighed. "They found a skull. We can go take a look as soon as the expert gets here. I also learned some physical details about Rosalita, just in case."

"Good, because I think we can rule out the body being Kitten's. She was as tall as we are, Jim. The bones weren't long enough to be Kitten's."

"Artie, one more thing, before Lily comes back. If Loveless did intend to lure Kat, I think it's also possible that Loveless intended to lure Lily too, but was foiled when she changed her mind to go to the bullfights. I've kept her close since I began to put things together."

"I appreciate that, Jim."

"My guess is that he probably won't come after her at this point. It would ruin his game plan, whatever that may be."

"I agree, Jim."

"So what the hell is his game plan and how do we find him?"

"We question the lawyer who brokered the sale. He's in Madrid. I sent a telegraph to him already and requested an appointment late today under an assumed name. After all two can play that game!" Artie said hopefully.

"Is it safe to return now, gentlemen?" Lily arrived with a gentle smile and a tray with a pitcher and three glasses.

"Yes, Lily. Thanks for your indulgence," Jim said grasping her hand and squeezing it after she set down the platter.

"You seem a bit more optimistic now, Jim," Lily said.

"I don't think Kat is dead."

"I sense a 'but,' Jim."

"I think an old enemy has taken her."

"Why?"

"To get to me. Sooner or later he'll make his demands clear, tell us what heinous plot to take over the world he's got this time."

"So you just wait for him to make a ransom demand?"

"It's not usually money he wants, Lily. It's power. Concessions from governments. Land. Mass death of the people inconveniently placed upon that land."

"What could he ask of you while in Spain? You have no authority here. I don't understand." Lily shrugged her head.

"Frankly neither do I, but he doesn't think like normal men. He's devious, Lily. Warped as a wet board," Jim said with disdain.

"That was a kind way of saying he's got some of the most contorted reasoning you can imagine, Lil," Artie added.

"Will he hurt Kat?"

"Not likely. I expect he'll treat her quite well, like the noble she is," Artie reassured his worried wife.

"Kat might not entirely appreciate that," Lily said.

"Ironic, isn't it!" Artie remarked.

"So she'll be safe, you're certain?"

"Certain, no, but confident within reasonable probability," Jim reassured both Lily and himself.

"But if he was responsible for the explosion, he killed a child? And a woman, some other woman," Lily trembled with horror at the idea.

"Lily, I can't hope to explain how his mind works to you because I've never quite figured it out myself. The child and the woman served his purposes," Jim said glumly.

"And his purpose for Kat is to get to you?"

"And Artie too."

"Artie's retired!"

"Loveless still holds a grudge, Lily," Jim nodded ruefully.

"Lil, he also exhibits a strange sort of condescending respect for us. He's a braggart who needs us for an audience and to challenge the sheer audaciousness of his schemes."

"Do whatever you must to find Kat, dear," Lily said squeezing Artie's hand, "retired or not."

"Thank you, my love."

"Thank you, Lily," Jim added.

"And let me know any way I can help. I insist."

"As a matter of fact, Lily, I think we could use that help later today. Maybe you and Artie can charm the answers we need from the lawyer who did Loveless' dirty work?"

"What Jim is really saying, Lil, is that you and I might be able to save Jim's right hand from a premature workout!"

"It's the least I can do for Kat," Lily smiled. "Now tell me, what kind of costume can I wear?"

"I'll let you and Artie work on that. If you two don't mind, I need a little fresh air."

"Okay, Jim, just promise me you won't go off and do anything bone-headed?"

"I promise, Artie."

Jim didn't have a plan. He only knew that if he went to the lawyer's with Artie and Lily, he would squeeze the last breath out of the man to get the answers he wanted — whether or not the lawyer had them. Operating on that kind of raw emotion hadn't worked in his favor recently. This was too important to screw up, so he would keep a distance, at least at first.

Jim found himself wishing he was out in the country, riding with Kat, enjoying the peace of a meadow or the cool of a forest. She'd been so giving on this trip, going without her favorite activity for weeks without complaint. Jim's guilt and the heat of the afternoon sun soon took a toll on him. He stepped into a bar, an odd one that stayed open through siesta. Jim ordered a glass of brandy even though he didn't want it. He was one of two customers in the bar.

"Hardly enough customers to make it worth staying open for siesta," Jim remarked.

"If you had to go home to a witch, you'd stay open too."

Jim nodded on the theory that it never works in your favor to argue with an unknown bartender.

"You look like you lost your best friend, mi amigo?"

Jim nodded his head a little. "My wife."

"Ha! It's far worse to lose a best friend."

Jim couldn't stop his eyes from popping up at the comment, but he quickly let the comment go without analogizing as the bartender did. He'd experienced that feeling before, losing one's best friend, and it was damn awful like this too. Luckily, that time turned out not to be real just like Jim hoped this time wouldn't be either. Jim sipped a few more drops of the brandy, dropped coins on the table and then left suddenly. He had no business running around when he should be waiting at the hotel for the invitation from Dr. Loveless. It had to come soon!

Artie and Lily returned not long after Jim. Salvadore pointed them toward a corner of the salon. Every time someone came through the door, Jim nearly jumped, then became deflated when the person didn't have a message for him. Artie asked for a couple of brandies before approaching Jim. Jim's sullen mood was his toughest to deal with, and with these circumstances, even the usual tactics might backfire. Lily excused herself to change clothes for the evening.

"Hey, Jim, you look like you could use one or more of these," Artie said as he handed a glass of brandy to Jim.

"Why isn't he springing the trap already, Artie?" Jim looked haggard and worn.

"I wish I had the answers, Jim. The lawyer didn't know much of anything, not even the little man's real name. He only said he was Señorita Cinnamor's brother."

"That's all you got?"

"I didn't say that. The lawyer who dealt with him had a couple of interesting observations. I give credit to Lily for asking the right questions when there were no facts to be had. Loveless didn't reveal any information to the lawyer per se, but it sounds like Loveless wasn't his usual officious and giddy self when hatching a plot. According to the lawyer, Loveless seemed quite sullen, even sad. Jim, I don't know what that means for Kat, but it worries me."

"Me too, Artie. We should have had a note or some sort of bait from him by now."

"I hope he hasn't chosen now to deviate from the playbook, Jim."

"If he has, we'll have a devil of a time finding him . . ." Jim's voice withered to a whisper, "and Kat."

"If he has her, Jim. We aren't one hundred percent certain yet."

"Where the devil is that expert of yours, Artie?"

"Spanish trains, Jim, they don't run like the Swiss. Why don't you go upstairs and take a little siesta? You look worn out."

"Okay, Artie, but I want you to think about something that confuses me. If Señora Gomez has been in Toledo, why did Loveless go to the trouble of buying her shop? He probably could have just paid Rosalita off and used the place with no one the wiser."

"Good question, Jim."

"The only answer I've come up with so far is that he wanted to leave a trail to taunt us, but there are so many less complicated ways to do that. It's a puzzle."

"It always is with him," Artie nodded.


	7. Short-Lived Relief

**Chapter 7 — Short-Lived Relief**

The expert on human remains finally arrived shortly after lunch. He and Artie immediately slipped into scientific jargon in German, at least it seemed like that to Jim who understood very little German beyond basic greetings and a few key words. Jim grew short-tempered fast. Seeing how Jim was affected, Lily persuaded him to stay behind with her when Artie took the expert to view the body.

Artie returned much sooner than Jim expected. Jim stopped in his tracks as he paced the lobby and saw his friend. Artie's face was a mask. Jim wasn't sure what that meant except it didn't give Jim the immediate relief he'd hoped to have.

"Come sit down, Jim. I could use brandy, maybe a whole bottle. Salvadore, a bottle, if you please," Artie nodded to the quiet, grief-stricken innkeeper who was keeping a close eye on his equally troubled American friends.

"You don't look like you brought good news, Artie?"

"When you told me they found a skull, Jim, I figured it would make it easy, especially with what you learned about Rosalita's teeth."

"Then it wasn't Rosalita?" Jim grew visibly depressed at Artie's comment.

"Jim, we still don't know for certain, but I'm really beginning to doubt the body is Kat's. Too many things don't add up."

"Artie, don't spare me the details if they are important." Jim spoke with calm, professional control even though his emotions threatened to break through the mask at any moment.

"The skull they found was a young woman's, but it had no teeth in it. Dr. von Schtad posited that the explosion might have been responsible for that, except the teeth that have been found so far all bear marks of sharp tools at the break points. Also the left hand bones were intact, so if it was Kat, the separation of the ring from the hand makes little sense, or is confusing to say the least."

Jim inhaled deeply and let out a small sigh. "She's alive, Artie, somewhere she's alive." Jim's relief played upon his face, but dread still mixed in with it. "The sonofabitch is just twisting the knife now, waiting to make the reveal, enticing me into his trap du jour."

"And you'll go the moment he springs it?" Artie half asked, half stated.

"You know I will. What choice do I have?" Jim meant what he said, and even looked eager for the moment to come.

"You don't have much choice, Jim, but you won't go alone and until that time comes, we'll keep digging. Maybe we can find her before he sucks you in like a fly."

Jim nodded slightly. The situation wasn't good, but at least he now truly believed Kat was alive. That was far better than the alternative. At least it seemed that way for a while. Except the days began to pass with no progress finding Kat and no word from Loveless. Nothing at all. Were they missing something? Was there nothing? Jim had never been more unnerved in his life. If he could just trade himself for Kat, he would not hesitate. But why was no offer of such or a ransom being demanded? Why was Loveless not dangling some taunting clue to lure Jim into a snare?

During this time Artie commissioned drawings of Loveless, Kitten and Voltaire, since Tomasito had used the plural of "oddly shaped" friends, even though there had been no direct Voltaire sightings of which they were aware. Artie, Lily and Jim wandered around the city asking anyone and everyone about the trio. The size of Madrid did not work in their favor, however. It was a city teeming with people and although they were friendly, the culture was very attuned to appearance. Thus the three "oddly shaped" people Jim and Artie sought might gather a passing glance, but might also be as quickly dismissed from conscious memory as unworthy.

Finally, they caught a break. An innkeeper several miles away from where Jim and Artie had been staying recognized the "oddly shaped friends." Loveless stayed in his hotel under the name Miguelito Cinnamor. He shared a room with Voltaire. His sister, Señorita Cinnamor, had a room of her own. The owner, who disclaimed being a nosy man, said they had been there for several weeks. He had no idea about their business, only that it was an odd bunch that kept to themselves. Then approximately ten days ago, they left for one night and came back the next day.

According to the innkeeper's wife, the tiny man seemed to have brightened up a bit a day or two after the trip. She thought maybe his wife was getting better.

"His wife?" Artie and Jim queried simultaneously.

"Yes, well that's what his sister said to me over a glass of sangria one night, that the little man, he was very sad because his wife had been ill, that something terrible had happened to her."

"Is that all? Did he ever say what had happened to her? Mention her first name?" Jim urged.

"No, señor. He never spoke to me directly. Just that one night, the sister was loose with her lips. It did not happen again."

"You don't know why his mood brightened then?"

"No, Señor West, I never learned it before they left, more than a week ago."

"Did they say where they were going?" Artie asked.

"No, we don't know where they went," the innkeeper said with conviction and his wife nodded in agreement.

"Did he receive any mail when he was here? Deliveries?" Artie probed with desperation for anything that might help.

"Not that I can recall," the innkeeper said and his wife confirmed this too.

"Did they leave behind any papers or trash we can look at?" Artie tried pleadingly once more.

The innkeeper looked offended at the idea that he paid attention to the trash of a guest, but the way the wife looked away suggested otherwise.

"Is there something? Anything? No matter how insignificant it might seem?" Artie begged.

"There were papers from a bank. He seemed to be here to do something at a bank but it must not have been going well. I remember him hollering something like 'banco infernal' over and over," the wife said.

"The bank's name, do you recall it by any chance?" Jim asked.

"No, but you are welcome to look through the trash in the alley. It probably is still there."

Jim ran toward the back door she pointed toward without further word. Artie smoothed things over with innkeeper who did not like the invasion of privacy of a former guest while Jim took on a job that Artie was happy for him to do alone.

Jim found only shreds of paper, torn in obvious frustration. He gathered these and took them back to their inn. He would spend their last night there trying to reassemble the pieces. The rooms were committed for the next week. Jim left early to go to his room taking the shreds with him. He was about to be evicted from the last place that Kat had been, that still had her things, her smells. Lily had offered to pack up Kat's things, but Jim declined. He didn't know when next he'd be with her and he'd wasted too much time apart from her already. He fell asleep at the small dressing table with the shreds before him. He hadn't gotten much more than a bank name and that the bank branch was in the barrio in which they were staying, Puerta del Sol. The gist of the words he could put together seemed to be about red tape for whatever it was Loveless wanted to do. Jim spoke the language far better than he read it.

In the morning, he and Artie pondered how to approach the bank for information. It was often easier to deal with foreign officials than bank officers! Layers of layers upon layers of bureaucracy were the hallmark of banks everywhere. Jim would be what he was, a United States Secret Service agent chasing down an internationally wanted criminal. Artie, he had the more challenging role, that of a Spanish government official supporting the United States in its efforts.

As they walked to the bank, their conversation wandered to Kitten's conversation with the owner's wife. Was it possible that Loveless and Antoinette married? What might have happened? Had the lovely Antoinette finally seen the truth? Neither Jim nor Artie believed that. The two were besotted with each other. And even Jim and Artie would admit that Antoinette and Loveless made magic when they sang together. There was even the possibility that that Loveless married someone other than Antoinette, but neither Jim nor Artie could fathom whom it might be in that case.

Both Artie and Jim had been generally aware that the bank branch was only one street away from the florist when they saw the address. What they didn't know until they got there was just how close it was. The florist shop was directly behind the bank. Only an alley had separated the two, a distance that spared the bank from serious fire damage although it suffered blown out windows in the back. Still, it was up and running — in the way of banks, that is — doing its best to take in money and not let it go once held.

Jim's use of his United States Secret Service identification didn't impress the bank manager for a moment. However, Artie's false identification claiming to be from the government, which in fact owned the bank, was more effective. Artie's insistence on seeing the damage from the explosion produced fearful clucking from the manager at first and then embarrassment. This confused Artie and Jim, although their faces did not betray it. They expected to perhaps see the blown out windows they'd already observed, but when they were led downstairs to the basement, Jim and Artie exchanged perplexed looks. With a look of dread on his face, the manager opened the vault. The giant hole in the back of the vault explained a lot. One wall of secured boxes had been knocked to the floor, many torn open by the explosion. The wall on the far side was undamaged, however.

Artie did a "tsk tsk" clucking and shaming routine as Jim's eyes darted to and fro. Artie called the manager's attention to a corner that would give Jim some freedom of movement. Jim was out the hole in the back wall the moment the manager turned away from him. Artie explained the American seemed to have a bout of claustrophobia and left through the open vault door. The manager seemed glad for it. When Artie began to inquire as to what was destroyed, however, the manager became irritated as he had submitted his report and the bank was not privy to the content of private vaults anyway. He could only speak to the 100,000 pesos in cash from a large vault that the bank itself used that must have burned, for they could find no trace of the money.

"You do realize, Señor, that this might not be an accident?" Artie frowned.

"Of course it was! The store behind here exploded nearly a week ago."

"When was this damage first discovered?"

"Not until we reopened on Monday after the explosion. There was so little damage to the back of the building, just two broken windows, that it never occurred to anyone to check the vault before then. We just boarded up the back windows."

Jim reentered from the hole in the wall just then and pulled Artie aside for a private talk. "Loveless was after something in here. There's a freshly built wooden tunnel between here and the shop that is still partially intact. This was definitely a separate and purposeful act of demolition."

"Yes, and apparently Loveless took a mound of cash, 100,000 pesos."

Jim shook his head. "There has to be something else. That's not enough cash for Loveless to have gone to the trouble to buy the florist shop for access to the vaults."

"The other vaults could be missing items. We don't know," Artie whispered to Jim before returning to speaking Spanish and addressing the manager more officiously. "Have the owners of the vaults been contacted yet?" Artie asked.

The manager hesitated. "We are in the process of compiling a complete list of owners and their addresses. It is a tedious process, but we are nearly done."

"Yes, I'm certain it is. Tedious and frightening all at the same time," Artie shamed the manager without explaining his comment just yet. Artie pulled Jim aside first and whispered to him. "Jim, the manager here is under the delusion that this damage was from the florist shop explosion. Would you care to enlighten him or should I?"

"You do it. I'd like to snoop around in here for a few minutes if you can distract him."

Artie led the manager out the hole in the wall and explained blast patterns to him. When they returned, the manager looked terrified at the realization that it had been a theft. He'd been dreading telling the box holders about damage from the explosion and had clearly been delaying doing so. However, theft was a disgrace to the bank and a much greater liability too.

The three soon left the vault. Artie, ever persistent, demanded to see the list of affected owners, promising to personally look into it on behalf of the government's criminal investigation which he was initiating. After a bit of protest, the manager presented Artie with the list compiled so far if he wished to copy it. Jim stood over Artie's shoulder looking at the list.

"This list isn't going to help. The information we want isn't here." Jim, for the first time addressed the manager in Spanish. It seemed to unnerve the manager to discover the American understood what he'd been saying all along.

"What's not there, Señor West? I don't understand," the bank manager said nervously.

"The owners of box 12," Jim replied.

"But señor, that box was undamaged! Only the vaults on the opposite side were damaged."

"Perhaps, but Box 12 was opened subsequent to the explosion. Every other box was covered with dust from the explosion. That one had smudges all over it, finger impressions left by someone wearing gloves."

"That's not possible. No customers have been allowed in the vault since we discovered the damage!"

"Would you care to go back down and look again?" Jim challenged him.

"Box 12, you say, you are certain?"

"Yes, box 12," Jim repeated.

"¡Dios Mios!" The manager looked crestfallen.

"You know something about that box then?" Artie asked pointedly.

"Yes, that infernal little man had been hounding me for two weeks trying to get into that box before he finally quit."

"When was that?" Artie asked.

"Over a week ago at least, maybe ten days or so."

"Tell us everything you know about the little man and the box," Artie insisted.


	8. A Game Plan

**Chapter 8 — A Game Plan**

Jim and Artie revealed their findings to Lily shortly after leaving the bank. "Loveless, under the name Cinnamor, claimed to have legal authority to get into a box on behalf of his wife, whom he claimed was in a sanatorium after a nervous breakdown. The manager would not accept any amount of legal proof Loveless offered, leading to yelling and threats. Then Loveless ceased his attempts. The bank manager was relieved to be rid of the pest. Little did he know," Artie smiled.

"From what we gather, the box in question was originally owned by one Señor Carlos Vargas who died many years ago and it then passed to his daughter, Antoinette," Jim added.

"Odd name for a Spanish girl," Lily remarked.

"It is at that," Artie agreed. He scratched his head for a moment. "There's something vaguely familiar about the father's name. I just can't get to it now. Oh well, maybe later."

"Do you think Loveless's story to the manager was true?" Lily asked.

"It's consistent with what Kitten told the innkeeper's wife, so it may very well be," Artie said.

"Does this lead us any closer to finding Kat?" Lily asked, confusion evident on her face.

"The bank manager couldn't recall a detail from the documentation that Loveless showed him and he never kept any of it," Artie said glumly. "We hoped that maybe he might remember the name of the sanatorium or even what country it was in, but apparently he didn't care enough to notice. He was determined to deny Loveless, possibly in reaction to his size and attitude alone. A shining example of the treatment and attitude which might have turned the little man toward crime in the first instance," Artie said ruefully.

"So what do we do next?" Lily asked hopefully.

"When did you join the Secret Service, my love?" Artie asked taking hold of Lily's hand.

"I think it plausible to consider this my second mission, dear."

"Not that we don't appreciate the help, Lil, but this next round will likely take us in separate directions," Jim said.

"Why?"

"One of us has to check sanatoriums across Europe," Jim said. "Since that's hardly appropriate for a honeymooning couple, that task will fall to me."

"Jim, how do we know Antoinette isn't in the States still?" Lily asked.

"We don't, Lily, but no one's seen Loveless in the States in nearly two years. Intelligence suggested he'd come across the pond that long ago and there have been several unverified sightings of him over the last two years," Jim explained. "Just none since the explosion," Jim bemoaned as he shook his head in frustration at that fact.

"Yes, but what if Antoinette's breakdown was before he came to Europe?" Lily asked.

"It's possible, but I don't think he'd go that far away from her and for that long," Jim said.

"So what do Artie and I do to help?"

"You have a play on the West End to rehearse for soon," Jim said.

"Oh, Jim, I couldn't, not now. I want to help."

"Lily, you can help using your contacts in the theater and society to ask everyone you can about contacts with Loveless and his entourage. It's a very mobile group after all. Meanwhile Artie can establish a base in London from which he can contact every police station and agency in Europe to help track Loveless's movements."

"We can't just go forward as though nothing has happened, Jim!" Lily pouted.

"No, of course not, Lily," Artie soothed. "But with Jim moving around the way he will be, us staying put, coordinating the search and managing information makes good sense."

"Jim, if we move on from here, what if Loveless finally does send that ransom letter to you, and you're not here to receive it?" Lily worried.

"Salvadore would forward anything for me to the Embassy. Otherwise, if Loveless wants to find me, he will. He'll get word to Washington and they'll get it to Artie or me."

"But Jim, are you certain you'll be all right on your own?" Lily said exuding concern.

"Believe me, Lil, we're calling in every favor ever owed us on this," Artie reassured his wife.

"That's not what I meant. Jim, will _**you**_ be okay?"

"I'll find her, Lil. I won't stop until I do," Jim swore with utter conviction.

"You'll take care of yourself and stay in close touch, won't you?" Lily begged.

"I promise."

"I'll hold you to it if Artie doesn't."

Jim kissed Lily on the cheeks thrice and headed off to pack. Jim didn't look as confident as he sounded. Both Artie and Lily knew it. As soon as he left, Artie turned to Lily.

"I know, darling, he's in rough shape, but as long as he has a purpose he'll muddle through and we'll be around to support him," Artie reassured her.

"Artie, is there any chance that that Kat really was killed in the explosion?"

"A chance, yes. I've thought of several scenarios each more unpleasant than the previous one to explain how that might be the case. For instance, maybe Loveless took her ring off intending to use it to prove to Jim he had her, but then something went wrong and Kat was killed unintentionally so he flipped the ring away. The sad truth is that we may never know for certain if the body was hers, Lil."

"Which means that Jim may just be on a wild goose chase?" Lily looked horrified at the thought.

"No, Lily. Loveless was involved in Kat's disappearance, of that I have no doubt. And if the worst case is true, that Kat is dead, then going after Loveless will at least be a worthy distraction for Jim, even if vengeance is all that will come out of it."

"Poor Jim," Lily sighed. Lily thought of the secret that Kat had shared with her just days before her disappearance, the one she and Artie kept between themselves thinking it would only increase Jim's anguish if he knew that Kat was pregnant. Lily counted her lucky stars that she had lived a fortunate and privileged life largely free of hardship. Poor Kat. The same could not be said for her.


	9. A Trail So Cold

**Chapter 9 - A Trail So Cold She Might Be As Well Be In Siberia**

Months passed. Jim's search hit wall after wall. Problematically for Jim, private sanatoriums were not so easy to find or to get information about. There were many small ones that operated out of estates that few people knew anything about. Of the dozens of sanatoriums Jim had visited, no one admitted that someone meeting Antoinette's name or description had been there or to any dealings with the diminutive doctor under any of his known aliases or otherwise. Jim, to the best of his ability, had exhausted sanatoriums in Spain, England, France and the larger cities of Germany so far. Austria loomed next on his list to visit, to be followed by Switzerland.

Artie and Lily also made little progress. He and Lily had settled in London as a temporary home. Artie spent his days making inquiries across the continent by telegraph, letters and occasional train trips. The more inquiries he made, the more Loveless sightings there seemed to have been across the continent over the last two years, but not a single fact or detail narrowed the search to where Loveless had disappeared to since the explosion in Madrid.

Lily did her part to help too. She continually inquired amongst theater friends and visitors about Loveless and his entourage. Sadly, she also learned nothing useful. At least her performance on the West End was well received by the British critics, even if at times they said she did not do complete justice to the Queen's English.

With Lily's play nearing the end of its run and decisions needing to be made as the search grew ever more frustrating, Artie arranged to meet Jim in his current location: Freiburg, Germany. Artie immediately saw the wear on Jim's face, months of dispiriting dead ends aging his face. After warm greetings, the two sat at the bar, skipping the small talk and saving it for later.

"I've got nothing of substance, Jim. I think it's possible Loveless went back to the States, to South America or even Australia. I've checked with the commercial liners several times, shown his picture to every crewman, and nothing, just nothing. I even have been checking on freighters."

"He wouldn't travel that rough, Artie."

"I've also checked the train lines dozen of times, sent pictures out across countries, but there's been nothing of substance."

"He's still here in Europe, Artie. I know it."

"Maybe he is, but if he had Kat, he'd have been in touch by now. Jim, enough time has passed that I think we have to consider the possibility that the body was hers."

"It wasn't," Jim insisted vehemently.

"Is that a scientific conclusion, one that the expert couldn't make?"

"No, it's intuitive. Look Artie, I appreciate all your help up to now, but it's time for you and Lily to move forward with your lives and leave the search to me."

"Jim, you know I'd never abandon you!"

"I know that, Artie. It's not fair to Lily, though."

"If I saw a shadow of hope about Kat, I'd stay with you."

"Lily deserves your full attention now. And you need to earn a living to support your wife!"

Artie acknowledged the truth of Jim's words with an accepting nod of the head. "Lil's play is closing at the end of the week, so you couldn't be more right. But Jim, I won't go unless you promise me you'll stay in touch and won't do anything stupid, at least not without letting me know first," Artie said with a wink to try to lighten the mood.

"I promise."

"Jim, how much longer can you keep this up?"

"Until I run out of friends and acquaintances to put me up?" Jim shrugged.

"You've got to be strapped for funds by now too. I mean, on our salaries, well, but for Lily's family money, our honeymoon would have been much shorter. This extension has left me with nearly empty pockets."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate the sacrifices you've made for me, Artie, for us. Please don't worry, I'll manage."

"I'll help any way I can."

"I know that. I'm a scrapper, Artie. I can always find a way to make a dime."

"With your fists, you mean?"

"If need be. I'm fully healed now and back in shape if nothing else."

"That's good, I suppose. That'll help when you do finally find the bastard."

"Mr. West," a young man ran up breathlessly. "Telegram for Mr. James West."

Artie watched on with hopeful eyes as Jim opened the brief note. "It's from our Parisian colleague, Inspector Renaud Girard. Loveless may be in the Alsace-Lorraine area. Voltaire and Kitten were seen at market in Verdun six weeks ago."

"That's still on the French side, isn't it?" Artie asked.

"Yes, which means that Renaud will be able to help us out," Jim said.

"Let's head out then. I'll wire Lily. She'll want to be nearby in case we find Kat."

"No, Artie. I want you go back to London and get Lily as far away from Loveless as you can, even if she has to leave the play a few days early. Take her back home!"

"Jim, Lily has made one thing clear to me. She won't leave Europe without seeing how you are first and if she has wind that we have a lead on Kat, she won't leave at all."

"So don't tell her anything, Artie. You're an actor after all!"

"No dice, Jim. Lily can see right through me. I have to let her know something."

"Artie, I'm begging you, don't take any chances with her. I have spent every day of the last four months regretting going to the bullfights instead of staying behind with Kat."

"There is no such thing as a risk free life, Jim."

"Maybe not, Artie, but this is Loveless and he has no limits when it comes to revenge upon us. Please, do as I ask," Jim urged with a sincerity that Artie did not doubt.

"All right, Jim. Tell you what, how about Lily joins us in Verdun — coming with a personal bodyguard, of course — and then I send her back off to the consulate in Paris for a few days or a week if the lead proves valuable?"

"Lily must have protection at all times."

"I agree whole-heartedly. Jim, Lily hasn't said anything to me yet, but I think she may be pregnant."

"Artie, if that's the case, I really am happy for the two of you. You'll be a great father."

Artie smiled before a shadow crossed his face.

"Artie, what's wrong?"

"I just had a terrible thought, Jim. Why didn't I see it before?"

"See what?"

"What terrible thing might have happened to Antoinette, how she was ill?"

"I'm not following your train of thought, Artie," Jim's face wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Maybe she lost a child?"

Jim shrugged. "I guess that's possible."

"Jim, there's something that I've just connected, something that might explain some of things we haven't been able to connect," Artie said reticently.

"Like what?"

"It involves an awful lot of conjecturing, Jim, but it makes bizarre sense of things that otherwise have none."

"Look, Artie, we've been going on nothing for months now, so let's just have it." Jim glared at Artie trying to fathom his hesitation.

"Jim, suppose, just suppose that Loveless was in Madrid going about his business without knowledge of us being there. Antoinette has lost their child and ended up ill in a sanatorium. Loveless is trying to get some family things from the vault to make her feel better, but he meets resistance at every turn. He hatches a plot to break into the bank, the usual roundabout Loveless plot, by buying the shop on the adjacent street across from the bank. He can get into the bank vault undetected via basement and tunnel. He buys the shop to get unfettered access to the property and perhaps even because he can't view government schematics of the utilities behind the shop without proof of ownership.

Somewhere along the line, after he buys the shop, he or one of his minions spots us. Or perhaps young Tomasito just happens to start talking about the Americans staying at his father's inn and Loveless knows we are in Spain. Young Tomasito then provides detailed information to him about us in exchange for pesetas or buckets of candy. Sometime after the bank closes on Friday, Loveless breaks into the bank vault. He has also learned from Tomasito that Kat and Lily will be alone when we go to the bullfights on Saturday. He sets up the mis-delivered flower scam, except Lily changes her mind and comes with us. Kat takes the flowers back, Loveless grabs her, and then explodes the shop to cover both his crimes. He leaves inside the body of the missing Rosalita, with her teeth removed to obscure her identity, as well as Kat's wedding ring."

"While that's diabolically twisted enough for a Loveless plot, I fail to see how Antoinette's situation ties in with kidnapping Kat, Artie," Jim shook his head. "Taking Kat doesn't bring Antoinette's baby back or help her in any way. I hate to say it but killing Kat for revenge makes more sense in that scenario."

"Unless Loveless wants Kat to provide a replacement child, that's something that would appeal to his warped sense of revenge. Antoinette's too."

"But . . . but . . . no, it's not his style. Artie, you can't be suggesting that Loveless kidnapped Kat and planned to rape and impregnate her?" Jim shook his head in utter disbelief.

"Oh, lord Jim, no. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to put that hideous thought into your head!"

"What thought did you intend to put into my head then?" Jim looked at a sheepish Artie accusingly.

"There's no way to say this without just putting it out there. Before she disappeared, Kat told Lily she was pregnant. She was planning on telling you the day after the bullfights."

"And you just now got around to telling me that?" Jim's eyes bulged with anger and he grasped Artie's upper arms tightly.

"Jim, buddy, I only thought the news would make her disappearance hurt worse. It never occurred to me until this minute that her condition might be the reason that Loveless took her."

Jim dropped his hold of Artie. He paced the room a minute, biting his lower lip to stifle the raw emotions coursing through him. "That's the first theory that would explain the absence of either a ransom note or a taunting condolence card." Jim plopped down in a chair. "The earliest she could have conceived was late January, meaning she'd be due, when? October?"

"Yes, late October, probably early November."

"Does Lily know how far along she was?"

"Not for certain, Jim. Lil said Kat thought it happened on the ship to England."

"Which means she's pretty far along by now. If we don't get to her before the baby comes, Loveless will probably kill her afterwards." Jim remained in a chair gobsmacked by the whole turn of events and possibilities.

Artie nodded solemnly. "Let me go tell telegraph Lily while you find out the quickest way to Verdun and follow up with Renaud."

"Will do," Jim said slowly rising up from the chair, no less anguished, but at least motivated with some information to finally act upon.

"One last thing, Jim. If I'm wrong about this, but just made up a theory to help explain what we have no explanation for, I hope in time you'll forgive me for telling you about the baby."

"I've never asked or wanted anything from you other than honesty, Artie. No forgiveness is necessary."

"Thanks, buddy. I'm glad you understand."

Well, Artie thinking Jim understood may have been an overstatement. After Artie left, Jim's right fist connected with the plaster wall, but not so hard as to do damage to the hand. One small thing had tempered Jim, something that he had discovered months ago that he had kept from Artie to spare Artie's feelings, although it was of much less consequence.

In the tunnel between the florist shop and the bank, Jim had made a gruesome discovery. Sticking out from where the tunnel collapsed was a woman's upper torso. Her teeth were all missing. From her matted brown hair and ragged dress, Jim guessed she was a vagrant that no one reported missing. If Lily had not gone to the bullfights that day, if Kat had not convinced her, then Artie would have lost Lily just as he had lost Kat. Jim shuddered at the thought. Lily had gotten lucky. And Kat, well, maybe, just maybe things were beginning to look up.


	10. Siberia, Seriously?

Chapter 10 - Siberia, Seriously?

Jim and Artie arrived in Verdun at nightfall, too late to conduct business. Lily arrived the middle of the next day. She was accompanied by Jim and Artie's French colleague and friend Inspector Renaud Girard, who'd provided the information on Loveless, as well as a burly bodyguard for Lily. After depositing Lily and her bodyguard at the hotel, Inspector Girard introduced Jim and Artie to Verdun's mayor, Gilles Bocuse, and presented orders from the president of France requiring Bocuse and his police force to assist Jim and Artie in any way possible. Unfortunately, Girard had to withdraw immediately as a telegram came demanding his attention to a murder in Paris.

Mayor Bocuse seemed to relax when Inspector Girard departed, although both Jim and Artie saw a natural enough cause for that. The mayor said he was unaware of any private sanatoriums in the immediate area and when confronted with the description of Loveless and being shown a picture of him, the mayor shook his head. "I would have remembered seeing such a man outside of the circus." As to the spotting of Voltaire and Kitten six weeks ago, he had no personal information but he suggested the police would know if they were there. "A man as large as that cannot escape the attention of the police force for long. You shall have their full cooperation and assistance, gentlemen." The mayor excused himself for other business but promised to remain available and accessible to any of their needs and passed them off to the police department.

The chief of the local police was unavailable until the next day due to a family emergency, but his assistant met with Jim and Artie to discuss what was known and suspected of Loveless and the "odd shaped" friends he kept, the giant and the fat lady. They had been observed in town together a time or two many weeks ago, but did nothing to bring themselves to the attention of the department. The assistant police chief thought it possible, if not probable, that they had left town. There had been no recent sightings of either that his men could recall specifically.

Not entirely satisfied with the answers they'd received, Artie and Jim headed into the village center to speak with local merchants. This effort paid off only slightly as Kitten made more of an impression on the local merchants than the police. She was remembered well not only for her bulk but for her lack of ability to communicate in French and her rude pointing in substitution. The local merchants had little patience for her, and Jim and Artie doubted they'd been kind to her. That said, from them Jim and Artie deduced that Kitten's once a week large purchases which she placed in saddle bags meant that Loveless and his entourage had not stayed in the town, but within a day's travel to and from Verdun. Unfortunately, it had been at least a month since anyone remembered seeing Kitten or Voltaire, and possibly longer.

Meanwhile, Lily suggested seeking out the local midwives and physicians to see if any had attended Kat or been advised that their services would be needed soon. A local woman who was one of a handful of midwives was engaged to do this for them bearing orders of cooperation from the mayor. Sadly, none of her contacts proved helpful. Lily suggested that would change with time. If Loveless wanted a healthy child delivered, he would not take the chance of leaving Kat to nature's whims. This assumed, of course, he was still in the area.

Jim and Artie worried they'd come close but missed Loveless. Still, after questioning the train agent and some crewmen, as well as local coachmen, they found no hard evidence to suggest that Loveless had left either. Absent specific evidence of their departure, Jim and Artie decided the best tack was to dig deeper in Verdun, to at least discover where they stayed and, if they'd left, whether they'd left behind clues.

Artie and Jim headed back to the police station where, with the help of the assistant police chief, they spent several hours studying maps for possible hideouts of Loveless and his odd entourage. By nightfall, they'd narrowed down the probable search area to a tract of thirty square kilometers north of town which could be reached by traveling deep into the forest. There were several possible residences in this area where Loveless could live inconspicuously. One of these was a fortified castle that had been empty for two years after the death of the last in a family line. No one else wanted to take on the expensive maintenance of it, so it remained empty. Jim and Artie instantly focussed on that as the most likely property, appealing to Loveless's sense of grandeur. The mayor popped in and let the men know that the police chief, Inspector Jabot, would personally would escort and assist Jim and Artie on their quest in any manner they wished to proceed the next morning.

Jim and Artie returned to the hotel, ate dinner with Lily and the bodyguard in a private salon, and then retired up to their rooms to make preparations for a possible excursion to a chateau the next day. In the morning, Jim, Artie and Lily — with the bodyguard hovering nearby — ate breakfast in the dining room. Just as Jim took his first bite of a croissant, a young boy ran in the room and presented Jim with an envelope. "Por vous, Monsieur West, c'est urgent."

Jim tipped the boy a franc and took a large envelope from his hands. The outside bore stamps which read "U.S. Embassy, London" and "URGENT". Inside the large envelope, Jim found a note wrapped around another envelope. This note read: "Please forward to James West, U.S. Secret Service, immediately." It bore the signature of President Ulysses S. Grant. Jim unwrapped this note and found a gossamer thin envelope with a postmark of several weeks ago from Siberia. The envelope was addressed to James West, U.S. Secret Service, Washington D.C., USA. Jim inhaled deeply as he recognized Kat's writing.

"What is it Jim?" Lily asked with wide eyes.

"It's a letter from Kat."

"Is it real?" Artie asked with surprise.

"It's her writing on the envelope," Jim shrugged.

"Well, for God's sake man, open it and read it," Artie urged as he and Lily waited nearly breathlessly.

"Maybe Jim would prefer some privacy to read it," Lily suggested as the delivery itself had already drawn more attention than Lily felt was needed.

Jim wasn't listening anymore, however. He was already opening the missive. He read it silently. Artie carefully watched his longtime partner's eyes for reactions that he might not wish to voice in a public space.

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **I write this letter full of shame and regret at my actions. Know that I truly did and do love you. In a moment I am hard pressed to explain but cannot deny, I deceived you cruelly. Know too that I have been duly punished for what I did.**_

 _ **I gamely went along for months of city travel away from my beloved horses, worrying each day that I had forever given up that life I loved despite our agreement to face those decisions jointly later. By the time we'd been in London a week, I suspected I was pregnant, but I was not ready to admit it to myself let alone you. In time I became certain, and when we were in Madrid with the support of kind Lily, I knew the time had come to tell you — whether or not I perceived myself ready for the reality of motherhood.**_

 _ **I asked you for a day away from the city after the bullfights, and you graciously agreed, easily and apologetically. I began to think that all would be fine; that we would find a compromise between city and country to suit us both. That with your help and support maybe I could face motherhood, something I did not feel ready or qualified to do.**_

 _ **Perhaps it was my initial wicked doubts that led to what happened next. After the three of you left for the bullfights, I began to cramp badly and bleed. I knew at once I'd lost the baby. Then, as if on cue, the flowers arrived. There was something about them that set me off, maybe lilies being the flowers associated with death. I guessed they were for Lily, but with a mistake in spelling and room number. She certainly was deserving of them. I felt anything but worthy at the time.**_

 _ **Desperate for distraction from despairing emotions bubbling up within me, I took them back to the florist, or I should say what was left of the florist. The explosion must have rocked the ground blocks away. I was not that far when it happened, however. I'd been knocked to the ground by the concussive blast of the nearby explosion. Although I was not aware of being specifically hurt, everything that happened afterward was as if I was moving in a fog or dream, for I have no other rational way of explaining what I did next.**_

 _ **I was overtaken by feelings of enormous disappointment in myself, grief at losing the child I'd not yet told you about, and disgust at my misgivings about our new life together supplemented by a child I wasn't certain I wanted just yet. It was as if the explosion I'd just witnessed mirrored some similar explosion within me. Without conscious thought, I acted. I removed my wedding band, threw it in the fire and fled with only the clothes on my back and a thoughtful and generous amount of pesos you'd slipped in before you'd left for the bullfights in case I went shopping.**_

 _ **Still in this same nightmarish fog, I wandered to the train station. I boarded the first train, which was bound to Zaragoza, a place that looked utterly uninviting to exit. I paid to stay aboard the same train which continued on to Toulouse. Then a wild hair took root and I determined to work my way towards Camargue to see the wild horses, as if seeing them would heal whatever had broken inside me.**_

 _ **I suppose I had some notion that we were kith and kin, these horses and I. I stayed there for a few days living rough in a primitive shelter trying to befriend some of those beautiful creatures thinking I might tame and train a few before I realized how wrong it was of me to even want that. And maybe that's what made me keep going and not turn back to you and seek forgiveness. I had seen how swimmingly you negotiated high society and government over the last several months of travel, seeming to take true pleasure in all of it. You had finally healed and could resume your work in that orbit. I would be your only excuse for not doing the work you love. I coped better than I expected during those months and then it all felt wrong and broken. I felt broken.**_

 _ **I needed money so I headed further east, taking on small farm jobs where anyone would have me. I met with much resistance in France, for to them it was men's work that I sought. Using the last of my funds and working or begging for some others along the way, I eventually made it to Munich. I recalled in my youth that German girls on farms were permitted to do man's work fairly freely and hoped that I might do so as well. It was all that kept me going then, a return to what I have always found as my solace, working with horses.**_

 _ **Of course, it was just another series of dreadful miscalculations on my part, especially my reverting to my birth name to seek work. Though I never advertised an actual connection to the empress, I used our common name because, well, everyone knew of Ekaterina Romanov's supposed "affinity" for horses, and that might give me the entry I needed to find decent work for which I was in fact qualified. The thing I hadn't thought about — for I was innocent then — were those three dreadful suitors my father pressed upon me in New Jersey, the ones whom Nadja used my poor Schumann to kill, one of whom was a German noble.**_

 _ **As proof of what bad luck can follow a girl when she is not busy making her own, my presence in Munich somehow got back to the one living man who bore me the most ill will: my father. Thus he had his revenge upon me for tarnishing what little was left of his good name, and more so, for failing to secure his dotage by marrying one of those three European twits and also costing him the value of whatever assets he had left behind in the States. He turned me in for the murder of the German, collected a reward from the man's family, and bid me good riddance.**_

 _ **Jim, I don't know what you know of German criminal law, but it is nothing like in the States. I understood from the moment I was taken into custody what would follow. I was presumed guilty. Upon that lay the further handicap that it was a woman's word against a man's, and I was a penniless and alone too. I would be afforded no access to a meaningful defense had I even wanted one. A judge would find me guilty. But even that is not enough for German justice. A confession would be required too. And though a part of me was self-loathing enough at this point to feel I deserved the means by which it would be extracted, torture, I chose to bypass that part, confess and accept a quick death penalty instead.**_

 _ **So now you must wonder how is this letter in your hands and why is it from Siberia? When has anything ever proceeded in a straight line for me? Before the penalty was to be applied, the Emperor — my cousin Wilhelm — was somehow advised of it. My father again? Was my death not enough to satisfy his desire to punish me or did he repent some and it was too much for him given the truth? I will likely never know, but my fate again zagged. My date with death was temporarily deferred upon the discovery that I was in line to the throne of Germany. (I had neglected to renounce the German title and succession right as I did the Russian one because, well, let's just say my Russian arrogance never thought much of the German right!)**_

 _ **Instead of executing me, cousin Wilhelm sent me for appropriate disposition to my cousin Alexander (III) presently upon his own thrown in St. Petersburg. (I suspect that the current tension between Russia and Germany may have had more to do with Wilhelm's actions than my status, or perhaps there was an exchange of prisoners, for it seems hardly likely to me that cousin Alexander was about to start a war over Wilhelm executing me. Now you might see why I've never wanted anything to do with any of them and prefer the company of horses!)**_

 _ **Anyway, Cousin Alexander— out of some sense of family fealty and fondness for my dearly departed mother whom he knew better than I ever did — chose not to uphold the death sentence. I also suspect that he did not think ill of my crime, killing a German noble unrelated to us. Had he not been such a religious man, I might have skated! In the end, he settled upon exiling me to my current and permanent home: Siberia.**_

 _ **It is perhaps better than I deserve for my bad decisions. Though it is a wild and desolate land, I am permitted to work with horses and do not live in nearly such rough conditions as do many others here. Winter will be a test, but I have weathered Russian winters before, haven't I? And if the food is abysmal, so what? I deserve that and much worse too.**_

 _ **To you, and to Artie and Lily especially, my sincerest apologies for my rash decision and the pain I know I put you all through. I meant to advise you of the truth sooner, but first I had to face a good many other truths that set me back. I am not proud of my behavior, I assure you. I hope in time that you find a woman who can give you all the things a husband as wonderful as you should have, things that in the heat of the moment of my sorriest decision ever, I thought I could not.**_

 _ **With love and infinite regret,**_

 _ **Kat**_

 _ **P.S. Even if you are so generous as to forgive me, please immediately discard any ridiculous notion of rescuing me from the mess I made this time. I will live out the rest of my days here learning true humility at last!**_

Jim crumpled the letter up and tossed it on the floor in disgust.

Artie bent down to pick it up but would not look at it without Jim's permission. "What is it Jim?"

"It's time to get Lily out of here," Jim said. "You two can make the midmorning train." Jim arose from his chair, leaving the two envelopes and the note on the table.

"Okay, Jim," Artie said seeing Jim's eyes blazing with certainty. Artie picked up the papers Jim left behind and turned to his wife. "Let's head upstairs to pack, Lily."

Lily looked questioningly at Jim and then her husband. Jim looked right through her. Artie gently shook his head, warning Lily not to ask anything, not to say a word. Lily nodded and placidly followed Artie upstairs, the bodyguard glued behind her now.

Once upstairs, Artie entered Jim's room through the door that connected their two rooms. Artie still held the crumpled letter and other papers that came with it.

"What's up Jim?"

"He knows we're here, Artie. We've got to move fast."

"What does a letter postmarked from Siberia have to do with Loveless?" Artie arched in puzzlement.

"Read it yourself. It's a decoy." Jim paced the room while Artie read the letter.

"Jim, the scary thing is that what the letter says is plausible. We have nothing that actually ties Loveless to Kat except the ring at the florist shop."

"Did you send Lily flowers that day?" Jim asked pointedly.

"No, nor Lilia, either," Artie admitted.

"You think it was all some kind of innocent mistake that drew Kat to the florist's that day?" Jim's pacing became more agitated.

"Jim, it is conceivable it was a fan of Lily's who sent the flowers, using the Spanish version of her name. Remember the man at the Spanish embassy dinner a few days earlier who was fawning all over Lily?"

"And the rest of this letter, it sounds like Kat to you?" Jim argued, certain of his position.

"It sounds like a distraught young woman who knows things only Kat would know."

"So it's just a coincidence that Loveless had recently bought the shop and installed Kitten there?" Jim threw his hands in the air in disbelief. "Artie, she was forced to write this tripe. I'm guessing it was in response to threats made against me, or you, or worse still, Lily."

"It's not that I disagree, Jim, but how can you be so certain when everything in the letter is plausibly true?"

"Kat's signature."

"Huh?" Artie shrugged in confusion.

"We had a running joke about her full name, Ekaterina Anastasia Natalya Olga Marina Tatyana Romanov. There was one name she hated. I teased her with it regularly. She began to play along. After that, every single note she ever left for me was signed 'Olga' not 'Kat,'; every note I ever left for her was for 'my darling Olga.'"

"Maybe since this is essentially a dear John letter, she didn't feel it necessary to play the game any more?" Artie asked calmly, aware of Jim's growing agitation at his questions.

"No, Artie, I'm telling you, if she wanted me to believe this, she'd have used Olga. If not in the signature, it would have been elsewhere."

Artie brought his right fist up to his chin and pondered a second. "It does make you wonder. If this was done at Loveless's command and Kat did sign it as she normally would, would Loveless have thought it a clue that the letter was fake and insisted she use her first name instead?" Artie pursed his lips, drew in a breath and let it out. "Okay, I trust your instincts on this one."

"If you trust my instincts, Artie, why all the arguing first?"

"Just to let you get the anger out."

"Really? Because now I just might be angrier," Jim growled.

"No, Jim. I was using the time to scrutinize the postmarks and the President's signature. They are all forgeries."

"Artie, sometimes . . .," Jim began and shook his head.

"Jim, don't you think it's time we head back to Mayor Bocuse's office and set things in motion?" Artie winked at Jim. Just like that, the partners were back to business.


	11. Let the Show Begin

Chapter 11 - Let the Show Begin

Jim and Artie laid out their suspicions and conclusions to the mayor and police chief of Verdun. Both promised full support, although the mayor had many questions.

"Loveless is here, and he knows we are too," Jim said.

"You know this for certain now? But how?" Mayor Bocuse spoke as if he was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, I am certain. I received a letter from my wife this morning."

"From where? Did it say where she is?" the mayor asked.

"It was supposedly mailed from Siberia to the United States then couriered to the State Department in London then here."

"You say supposedly, why?" Police Chief Jabot asked.

"It's my job to know such things. The letter was written under duress at Loveless's direction, I am certain," Jim stated.

"Mr. Gordon, are you as certain as your partner?" the police chief asked.

"I have to trust his instincts," Artie said quietly, a little too quietly, permitting skepticism to show and undermining Jim's position on the matter.

"I'll have proof for you, Artie, by the time you get back, I'll have proof," Jim asserted forcefully clenching both his fists.

"Where are you going, Mr. Gordon?" The police chief appeared quite surprised at this turn.

"I'm escorting my wife back to England and putting her on ship back to the States. She's expecting our first child and as much as I would like to be here to help Jim, I must get her far away from the danger Loveless poses first. Jim insisted."

"Yes, I did. I won't have Lily placed in the same kind of danger that I allowed Kat to be."

"Jim, it wasn't your fault," Artie said empathetically.

"While Mr. Gordon is gone, I'll perform reconnaissance. If the opportunity arises, I'll take action. Loveless may be on the move if he knows we are this close." Jim's face was fixed with steely determination.

"That would be quite an entourage to hide on the move!" Mayor Bocuse said.

"Yes," said Artie, "a dwarf, a giant, a fat lady and a pregnant woman, plus who knows what Antoinette's condition is if she even is with them? Your officers should be able to spot that caravan a mile — I mean a kilometer — away," Artie issued a challenge to the police chief.

"I will have my men alerted immediately after we conclude speaking," the police chief said. "If they show themselves in public, we shall set upon them."

"No!" Jim intervened forcefully. "You've never tangled with this madman before and it's my wife's life on the line. If your men spot him, they are to be instructed to do nothing but follow at a distance and alert me."

"My men are highly competent, Mr. West," the police chief argued.

"I'm not disputing that although I've seen no evidence of it so far, with an internationally wanted felon hiding under your noses possibly for months!"

"Please excuse my partner," Artie jumped in. "As you can understand, the circumstances have tested his patience beyond limits."

"Monsieur West, because you are in an emotional state due to your personal involvement, I shall let that comment pass. We told Inspector Girard that we would support you in any manner you asked. If you think this the best way to proceed, since it is your family in the greatest danger, we shall accede to your wishes," Mayor Bocuse agreed. "I will inform you that I do question the wisdom of this approach, but I am a man of my word as is Chief Jabot."

"Yes, I am certain this is how I want to play it," Jim said.

Artie pulled the Police Chief aside for a moment and whispered to him. "If I could ask a favor of you, can I please implore you to keep tabs on my partner since I won't be here to back him up for at least a week? He has a bad habit of walking into trouble when I'm not around. Don't interfere, but keep an eye on him."

"Absolument!" the police chief whispered in agreement with ready ease.

"Try to stay out of serious trouble, Jim, and wire me if you need me to get back faster!" Artie said and left. Jim stayed on a few minutes more and informed the mayor and police chief of his plan more specifically. They could not have been more supportive, promising Jim any help he wished. However, all Jim requested was a swift and quiet horse. He was far more wary of scaring off the prey with a noisy herd of local constabulary than any risk to himself.

Jim's first foray was to be to the abandoned chateau. After being informed repeatedly about the overgrowth of the trails to it, Jim finally conceded to allow the police chief to lead him deep into the forest and deposit Jim at a cutoff that he might have easily missed because the road had ceased to be maintained when the castle was abandoned. Once there, he saw recent evidence of single file horse prints on the path. That gave Jim hope enough to continue forward toward the chateau.

The police chief further counseled Jim about a second similar cutoff to the estate that would be easy to miss, but Jim was resolute about going the rest of the way alone. The police chief muttered French words understandable enough to Jim about Jim's stubbornness and let him go "like a blind pig" the rest of the way by himself.

Jim slowed down as he recognized some of the natural features he'd been advised about near the second cut off. Recent hoof prints at this pass buoyed his spirits that he was on the right track. Just after taking the right angle turn, Jim slapped at his neck upon feeling a sharp prick. When he felt a small metal dart, he knew for certain it was the right track. Unfortunately for him, he'd been expected. He slumped to unconsciousness on the back of his horse, then slid off sideways onto the ground.


	12. Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 12 - Down the Rabbit Hole

When Jim woke up, it took a minute for him to shake off the grogginess and assess his condition. He was in a rectangular iron cage about eight by ten feet wide in a large basement. A fair amount of natural light poured in from high vents on the walls allowing Jim to see clearly. He was dressed in worn thin pajamas and was shoeless. In the cage with him was a bucket, a pitcher of water and a tin cup.

Jim was more than a little miffed at himself for taking that second blind turn as he had. He'd been duly punished for it too. Loveless had finally caught on to Jim's array of devices stashed in his clothes and shoes and left him with nothing at all that would help him escape. The bucket didn't even have a handle he might fashion into a lock pick!

Jim pondered whether to wait for Loveless to show up to gloat or to do his best to summon the little man. Feeling irritated, Jim opted to try to share the feeling by rattling the metal cup against the iron bars and bother others. Loveless showed up after ten nonstop minutes of racket.

"So nice of you to accept my invitation, Mr. West," the little man sneered.

Jim aimed for nonchalant, at least as much as a caged man could. "I'd have shown up sooner if you hadn't forgotten to write for so long."

"I wondered what you thought about my restraint all this time. No ransom note, no note of condolence, no little clues about my whereabouts or plans. It must have confused you immeasurably."

"It certainly was a departure from your usual braggadocio."

"Which departure had the effect of making you doubt whether I really wanted you to ever find me, correct?" Loveless smirked.

"Yes."

"If you must know, I wrestled much with that decision. After all, what is revenge without a chance to gloat? However, there was so much time to fill that I felt deferring matters as long as possible was the wiser route than putting you on my tracks too early. That said, I started to doubt your continued worthiness as an adversary when you weren't on my tail sooner."

"Next time you should you leave more breadcrumbs behind," Jim said holding back the snarl he wanted to unleash and playing it calm and controlled.

Dr. Loveless laughed. "Oh, Mr. West, I have missed your wit at times over the past few years, but not much else." Loveless's attitude went from elevated to vindictive in a heartbeat.

Jim didn't respond. Letting the little man ramble out his dastardly plans had become his strategy in their last few encounters and worked well. Jim saw no reason to abandon that tack now.

"Come, come. You must ask me the million questions on your mind!" Loveless insisted.

Jim shook his head. "I know what I need to know."

"You know nothing, Mr. West. You may have suppositions and suspicions, but you can have nothing more!"

"If that is what you wish to believe," Jim shrugged as if he was uninterested in Loveless continuing.

"You do not even wish to know if your wife is still alive?"

"I know she is."

"You cannot." Loveless pouted at the idea of being beaten in even the littlest detail.

"The ink on the letter you had her write was fresh, a day or two old, not weeks. The letter was a poor effort, Loveless, not up to your usual standards."

"What about her health? Is she well? Do you not wish to know even that?"

"She has not yet given birth."

"And you know this for certain, how?" The doctor paced as he spoke, showing a bit of nerves in not having the upper hand in yet more details.

"Because no physician or midwife in the area has seen Kat as yet, and if this child is so important to you as this insane scheme suggests, then you would not risk her giving birth unaided by an expert."

"You, you . . ." the little man paced uncomfortably looking for the right insult.

"Why not just admit I'm right for a change? Save yourself some huffing and puffing. Why don't we move on to the endgame without the nonsense for once, Loveless?" Jim's hands clenched the bars tensely even as he sought to maintain the calm upper hand.

"You speak as if you know the endgame, Mr. West?"

"Sure. You've devised some incredibly convoluted or complicated way to kill me. I'm guessing it involves my wife watching as it happens."

Loveless frowned in slight annoyance. "You're only half right," he sneered. "In fact, there will be nothing convoluted or complicated about the way you die. The fun will be in the prequel. Your actual death will be simple, albeit excruciatingly painful."

"Then let's get on with whatever you're plotting and spare me the taunting," Jim said as he rolled his eyes trying to look bored.

"Really, Mr. West, I thought you might be grateful for this first part. I thought that having deprived you of many months of your young wife's companionship, it would be a kindness of me to share with you how she spent her time. In her own words, no less." The doctor proceeded to pull a small book out from beyond his back.

"And if I don't wish to hear them?" Jim said without conviction.

"Well, that would be downright inhospitable of me. After all, she went to all the trouble to write letters to you. It's the least I can do before we conclude our business."

"By killing us, you mean?"

"You, certainly. Out of necessity, your wife will live at least a short while longer than you. But if you must know, I am continuing to ponder her longer term fate. Unless you listen to her words, you will never know my decision or its reasons before your fate arrives."

"I'm guessing that this isn't going to take very long since the accommodations are awfully basic?"

"You are correct in that, Mr. West. We shall finish all our business long before Mr. Gordon returns from his journey to take his expectant bride to safekeeping."

Jim frowned and let out a small sigh of frustration. "Was it the mayor or the police chief?"

Loveless cackled in that irritating way of his. "Both, of course. One to watch the other, and both handsomely paid to protect my interests. If some passing traveler had not conveyed his sighting of Voltaire and Kitten to authorities elsewhere, we would not be having this conversation even this soon!" Loveless again could not hide his irritation at his failure to control every detail.

"Exactly how much longer did you plan to wait before you summoned me so you could gloat?"

"Had you not found me now, in a month's time I would have sent you your wife's diary and some other trinkets to let you know for certain I had the child. With those I would have led you into a trap, one free of the hubbub that will soon surround us as your bride gives birth. Thusly would I have permitted you to go fitfully into the night by a method that would have given you ample time to reflect upon your complete failure to protect your loved ones."

"So in other words, I've already screwed up your plans?" Jim half smiled.

"To a small degree. For the most part, you have merely accelerated the timeline. But do not think that gives you the upper hand in any way! Indeed, I think you will find that your actions have only succeeded in making matters worse for your bride as well as for yourself."

"I don't buy it, Loveless. You're simply stalling for time. It could be weeks still before Kat gives birth. That's quite an entourage that you propose to move silently through the land in the next week. And you know that even if you dispose of me before you move on, Artemus will find you, of that you can be certain."

"Really now, Mr. West! Don't you think that Mr. Gordon has too much to lose to waste his time on revenge? His own bride, pregnant, after all. How would he live with himself if in his pursuit of justice for you, he lost them as you have lost your family? He's a wiser man than you have ever been, Mr. West."

"Still, he'll be here in a week's time for some resolution. You do propose to move out by then, don't you? After all, the French authorities are on your tail now too. Your friend the mayor and police chief will not be able to protect you long, especially with me disappearing here."

"True, that is an unfortunate fact. But my entourage as you call it will be small. Long before week's end, Kitten and Voltaire shall go in a separate direction and Antoinette and I will slip to the north with the child who shall be induced to arrive a bit early, though not so much that it should impact baby's health." The look of glee on Loveless's face burned into Jim's gut.

"You wouldn't!"

"It is your doing, Mr. West. Your interference has left me with no acceptable alternative."

"I could wire Artie not to return. Tell him it was a false lead, that you'd moved on and we'd missed you. You could take Kat with you someplace else and wait it out." Jim made his offer with sincerity, fear and worry evident in his tone.

"Mr. West, you have hunted me relentlessly across nations. For this game to end favorably for me, it is imperative you die sooner rather than later."

"Then kill me after I contact Artie. Just leave Kat be."

"I'm not certain you understand or appreciate what you are asking on her behalf, or that she would be appreciative of it either," Loveless chuckled.

"What do you mean?"

"If you wish to know, you should listen to her words," Loveless snickered at having cornered Jim on the ropes.

"All right, whatever you want," Jim conceded. His knew he was in a position of great weakness. All he had to play for was time. If this was how he had to buy time, then so be it.

"I'll return after lunch. Perhaps, if I am in a kindly mood, I will bring you something to eat."

After the little man left, Jim sat on the overturned bucket in quiet contemplation analyzing his dilemma. The bars were too hardened to move. He had nothing on his body or in his current possession to foster an escape. This was going to require some patience on his part, patience that might be sorely tested as Loveless tormented him with Kat's diary of her captivity.


	13. Reading Time

**Chapter 13 - Reading Time**

Loveless returned in mid-afternoon with some bits of bread and cheese for Jim as well as the diary. Loveless nestled his body atop a dust covered sofa about twenty-five feet away from the cage. "Reading hour begins! I apologize for the lack of a chair, Mr. West, but your comfort is not uppermost on my mind."

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **I had no way to know what might lie ahead when I went to return some misaddressed flowers to the florist shop. Right after I entered, I was grabbed by a giant. Next I was confronted with the diminutive doctor you had told me about. He told me that I was to be his revenge upon you. Instead of waiting to hear details (as you told me he would inevitably give), I struggled to break free of the giant's grasp. My futile effort was rewarded with sedation. When next I roused, we were traveling in a carriage. I hid my alertness as best I could and waited for a moment of distraction to try to get out. I guess it should come as no surprise that the between the giant and the large woman, I did not get far. Instead, I was repeatedly sedated until after we arrived at our destination.**_

 _ **I awoke in a high chamber in a chateau or castle somewhere remote, hilly and forested. My creature comforts were seen to. The bed is of a good quality with linens to match. A supply of water, bread, cheese and fruit was on the table waiting for my awakening. A good fire was present in the fireplace and plenty of kindling and wood were at my disposal to keep it tended. A modest selection of decent clothing was laid out in an ancient squire's chest. My purse and wedding band were missing, but I was otherwise intact.**_

 _ **It was several hours after I awoke before I saw my captors again. Loveless introduced me to his companions, my other jailers: Voltaire, the giant silent one, and Kitten, whom I think must lack a brain in her head. I remembered for a second time what you said about the doctor, that he would brag about his convoluted plans for world domination and revenge without any prompting, I tried to follow suit by remaining silent when he invited me to ask him the questions I must have. He insisted the three of them were "at my service" and told me to inquire as to any need. Well, you know me. I blurted it out. "Then let me leave!" I insisted.**_

 _ **"That my dear, is the one thing that I cannot allow. Aside from that, if what you require is within reason, you shall have it," Loveless promised.**_

 _ **Forgive my weakness, Jim, because I immediately asked for an explanation of why I was here.**_

 _ **"You, my dear lady, are the solution to a host of troubles." I did stay silent after that and he did not disappoint by failing to explain.**_

 _ **Loveless told me of his wife and the still birth of a wretchedly deformed child, which event sent her into madness. As she languished in a sanatorium, Loveless tried to recover — legitimately, he claims — certain family heirlooms of his wife from the Bank of Madrid vaults that he hoped would rally her spirits. Here again, I failed to be silent and my curiosity got the better of me. I could not imagine what sort of trinkets could ever help with that kind of trauma! I don't know how much of what he told me was true, but it made for a fabulous opera plot.**_

 _ **Antoinette's mother was a renowned opera star who fell for the handsome Spanish don who attended her shows night after night, finally wearing her down. A year after they married, she lost their unborn child after a tragic fall from the stage. She blamed herself and was bereft for a long period of time during which the husband tried every imaginable way to help her recover. To show his devotion to her, he commissioned the making of a special ring that the jeweler devised in two parts (no easy feat I think when one side must fit the finger of a man and the other side a woman). The husband's health began to visibly decline as he waited for the rings to be finished. When he presented the rings to his wife, she began to rally, as did he thereafter. Within the year, both were well. Soon after, a healthy baby girl namedAntoinette had been born.**_

 _ **So there you are, the little man of science, broke into a bank vault for a "magic" ring that he hoped would bring his wife out of madness as it did her mother! As to how these rings ended up in a vault at the bank behind the florist, I do not know. I did ask for that story, deeming it a reasonable request, but Loveless refused to tell that tale to me. However, by the shadow that crossed his face, I do not think things between the don and the diva ended on an entirely happy note!**_

 _ **Anyway, Loveless claimed the bank rebuffed his every legitimate effort. In the end, he devised a different way to get what he wanted. He purchased the florist shop, which was across the back alley from the bank in question, with access possible to the vault via the basement below adjacent sewers. (I tried not to visualize this too closely because imagining the scent of the sewer in my condition is apt to produce a most unpleasant reaction.) He had just completed this purchase and was finalizing his break-in plans when — as he put it — the universe smiled down upon him at last. He — by utter luck — discovered our simultaneous presence in Madrid.**_

 _ **Here it does seem there was some truth in his assertion, as what other than bad luck for us and good for him that we were staying at the inn of his young delivery boy's parents. Yes, little Tomasito, the youngest son of our innkeepers who moved in and out of all our daily orbits with ease, was the agent of our ill fortune. It was through Tomasito's daily gossip by which Loveless learned of our presence in Madrid and that which I had not yet revealed to you, that I was with child.**_

 _ **Dearest Jim, I had planned to share it with you the next day, on our ride, a special day for the two of us to begin an unexpected next chapter. But Loveless upon learning the fact, decided that our child would be his gift to Antoinette, the ultimate gift of love and revenge upon his worst enemy, you. His terrible words to me are seared upon my mind: "What more satisfactory revenge could there be than to take the child of your enemy and raise him as your enemy's enemy!"**_

 _ **Jim, I was so many months from delivery, that I truly thought him insane. He had to know you would be relentless in trying to find me. Then he sprang more details upon me, telling me you believed me dead, thanks to his manipulations in leaving behind the body of the former shop girl and my wedding band before setting off a gas explosion. If you had not told me of his prior schemes, it would have seemed too fantastical to believe what he told me, but I suppose the proof is in my presence here. (With sadness, I must report that naive little Tomasito was again the agent of our ills having conveyed that Lily and I were staying behind while you and Artie went to the bullfights. If nothing else, I am grateful that Lily changed her mind lest she would have become a captive with me, at least I think that was his intent though I do not put worse thoughts aside.)**_

 _ **Thus he laid it out for me, and I have laid it out for you, even if I hope you never hear of it. Loveless went on (he does go on, doesn't he?) and indicated that if I cooperated through the pregnancy, then I might live beyond it. As to you, he relished you suffering from your failure to protect me and the child he said you would never see.**_

 _ **I spurted out quite truthfully, and maybe even with an air of some small triumph, that I hadn't yet told you about the baby, and that you would never even know that you had lost a child. I knew Lily would not hurt you further by revealing what I had told her in confidence just before I "died". I was glad for that at least, I told him.**_

 _ **Loveless pondered what I said a minute before he spoke again. "That disappoints me, yet at the same time, perhaps it will reduce West's resolve to defy the evidence of your death." It was a moment of hope he gave me, Jim, telling me that you already doubted the truth of my death. You said, my darling, that his plans were always fatally flawed. "No matter," Loveless warned. "If West becomes a thorn in my side, I will dispose of him once and for all."**_

 _ **Dearest, I know that you are smarter than this petty little man with delusions of grandeur and you will at the very least rescue our child in time if not me as well. Even if you do not yet know of the pregnancy, Loveless will not be able to resist tormenting you with that information eventually. He will let you know he has our child at some point in the near future, and I know you will rescue him or her from this madman's grasp!**_

 _ **Until then, I will do as you would counsel me. I will wait and watch for an opportunity to escape, making one by whatever means necessary if none prove handy. Whatever that entails, I will devote myself to that cause while taking due care of the life growing within me.**_

 _ **My main concern is this diary. Loveless gave it to me promising he would not read it so long as I remained safely in his custody and that I could always maintain possession of it. I shall sleep upon it or carry it with me every moment of the day because for now it is all I have to connect with you. But I do not ever want you to see it. I fear that if I am to stay here for the months it takes to give birth that I may not be as brave as I am today. I worry that my words will shame me or be used to torment you. If that is the case, I am sorry I have written them and beg that you stop reading because nothing that you will read could change what already will have happened. You do not deserve to be burdened with additional sorrow because of my words set forth herein.**_

 _ **Love, Kat**_

"I confess that it did rob me of some joy when she revealed you were ignorant to the pregnancy, Mr. West. I thought quite hard about how to twist the knife in your gut further without bringing you too close, too soon. You must admit that I exercised admirable self restraint this once."

Jim simply glared at Loveless. There were no words sufficient to express his anger and hostility anyway.

"Now it is time for you to satisfy my curiosity, Mr. West. Why did you doubt her death? The set up should have been foolproof!"

"Hardly, Loveless. First of all, the ring was separated from the body, yet the hand which should have worn it was intact."

"That idiot Voltaire! I told him to put the ring on the body!"

"That wasn't your only mistake. The skull with all the teeth knocked out was another giveaway."

"How?" Loveless looked on the edge of fury.

"The expert we brought in said it was conceivable that all the teeth broke off in the explosion given that it was powerful enough to sever the head from the body. The problem was that the explosion couldn't explain why the breakpoints of every tooth found bore marks from a sharp tool."

"Hmmm, I see. Had you just been satisfied with the dismal work of the local coroner, you would have never known that."

"You should know me better after all these years than to think I would take things at face value."

Loveless paced agitatedly for a few moments then raised his hands in concession. "Even with the cleverest of planning I'm not certain that I could have done better. If I left that dreadful shop girl's teeth in place, you would have known with certainty that it was not your wife. And if I had not centered the explosive device directly beneath the girl's body, there was a grave chance that other more obvious differences would be spotted."

"You killed an innocent shopgirl and a nine year old boy as a decoy maneuver and that's all you can say!" Jim snarled.

"Mr. West, collateral damage is simply a part of our business, as you well know."

"There was nothing collateral about them. You purposely used them both!"

"Let's just agree to disagree and move on," Loveless smiled thinly and refused to be drawn into debate. He plopped back down upon the couch. "Back to the Countess. You should know she kept true to her word about trying to escape. I warned her, however! Let's hear her version of things first."

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **I'm certain this will come as no surprise to you, but my patience was short-lived. On the third day of captivity in my chamber, I wrapped the fireplace poker in some cloth, doused it in flame and waited behind the door for Kitten to arrive with my breakfast. I prodded her ahead of me, insisting she lead me to a back door and then the stables. I got as far as the kitchen when I fainted. Apparently expectant mothers should eat breakfast before attempting to escape. Put me in the minus column on this effort.**_

 _ **Love, Kat**_

Jim allowed himself a small smile at Kat's admission, grateful that she was unharmed in her effort.

"The Countess has a worthy sense of humor, I concede," Loveless bowed.

"Would you stop calling her that? She renounced her titles."

"As her recent letter to you said quite honestly, amidst a host of clever fabrications, she never officially renounced her place in the German succession. It is for that reason alone that I may keep her alive after the baby is born!"

Jim's mind set to racing. "Are you so far gone that you can imagine yourself controlling Germany through a child who is twenty-something in line to succeed Emperor Wilhelm?"

"Not only can I imagine it, but I could manipulate it. Miguelito Quixote Loveless, Regent to the Emperor or Empress of Germany! Then from Germany into Russia, uniting common family lines through my son or daughter!" Loveless did a small shuffle dance to drive home his excitement at the prospect.

"My son or daughter, Loveless!" Jim could not contain himself from issuing a stern reminder.

Loveless reared back with laughter and broke into a jig. "I knew this would gall you more than any direct injury! I knew it! Concede my brilliance, Mr. West, concede it now!" The little man repeatedly pointed his finger at Jim as he danced.

"What was Kat's punishment for trying to escape?" Jim doggedly fought down the bile welling in his throat and tried to focus on learning more of his wife's situation.

Loveless settled down and took the bait. "It was a mild rebuke. Substituting Voltaire as her keeper and loss of her fire seemed the natural consequences. Oh, don't look so worried. She had mounds of fine blankets to nestle under to keep warm. She didn't try anything for a couple of weeks after that. We'll just skip ahead. You can peruse the depressing drivel in between exciting bits on your own later this evening."

Jim breathed deeply to remain calm. Part of him wanted to hear everything, to be connected to Kat, and the other just wanted to see her now and be reassured. "Will you let me see her?"

"I wondered when you would ask. Maybe. Perhaps in the throes of childbirth or just thereafter when I wrest the baby from her arms. Solely for _my_ entertainment, I might indulge the two of you in sharing a moment of classical tragedy."

Jim grasped the bars in barely controlled rage at the thought, then he calmed himself down. He knew better than to react to such taunting and feed the doctor's pathetic hunger for the suffering of others. It was then that Jim observed Loveless absentmindedly twirling a ring on his left ring finger as he flipped pages of the diary, a ring that Jim did not recall from prior meetings.

"All right, let's go on then. Ah, this series."

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **Weeks are passing. My belly is growing. I am well fed albeit going crazy with the boredom of captivity. I have begged the doctor through the silent Voltaire— the doctor rarely shows his face to me of late — to let me out upon the grounds, to walk, to groom a horse, something, anything to give relief from the tedium and anxiety of sitting here waiting for a baby to be born and ripped from my arms.**_

 _ **I do not know how Voltaire communicates with the doctor. I have never heard him utter a sound, although I feel confident he is only mute, not stupid, and understands all I say. I admit I feel some empathy for him and his condition of gigantism and muteness. Certainly the doctor's dwarfism and megalomania have no similar impact! But Voltaire seems trapped in a body and mind unable to escape his circumstances, somehow made to feel safe in the doctor's control and command, although why I cannot fathom.**_

 _ **Voltaire is always of gentle demeanor with me, even when he suspects I am looking for a way around his body to a door. He will catch me, but I don't think he would hurt me unless I hurt him first — if such a thing is even possible. Maybe he can be persuaded to help me? If not, maybe he can be distracted enough for me to bypass him and flee here. We'll see. Until then, thinking of you and writing these notes is all that keeps me sane. I suspect in time those things may not suffice, however.**_

 _ **Love, Kat**_

"Prescient, you might say, or self-fulfilling prophecy. Because I felt her mental health might be important to her physical health, I yielded some and allowed her limited access to the stables and the corral. However, Mr. West, I feign no surprise that she attempted to take advantage of my generosity. Indeed, I would have been rather disappointed in her had she not."

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **I am an utter failure in following in your footsteps. You will have to teach our child to do better!**_

 _ **After weeks of being allowed to go outside with Voltaire, behaving kindly to him all the while trying to convert him to see the reality of what he was enabling Loveless to do, I made my next effort at escape. Under Voltaire's careful gaze, I had been working with a gelding of middling quality teaching him to follow commands.**_

 _ **Voltaire has a strange temerity around horses. I suppose they felt the same about him because of his size. They were an awkward match. He would be comfortable atop a Shire, or perhaps a Percheron, a horse much like him in personality. In different circumstances, I could see matching this mostly gentle giant with an amiable horse and him learning to enjoy a ride through the countryside. But then according to you, Artie never really has either! (I thought one day I might see proof of dear sweet Artie's lack of affection for horses for my own eyes, but, well, I must stop myself from this depressing path of thinking.)**_

 _ **Anyway, this gelding could jump! He had jumped the corral fence on more than one occasion before returning the same way, preferring the hay and oats of the barn to what he might forage in the wild, an unknown quantity that seemed to trouble him. Funny, because I thought about it too. If atop him I jumped the fence and made away, how would I fare in the unknown? What direction did food and shelter lie in? Were there friends to be found close by or allies to the wicked doctor who would return me to his clutches with immediacy?**_

 _ **I had to work with this horse patiently, even though I longed to hurry away, because I did not wish to risk a fall that might harm the baby. Every day it seemed I was accorded a little more leeway in setting up obstacles for this gelding. Or just enough rope to hang myself, you might say in retrospect!**_

 _ **One morning I made the leap at the far end of the fence without encountering peril. The problem was a solid wall of tall hedges in that direction left me nowhere to go except back in the direction of the barn. Voltaire had hopped the fence as easily as the gelding. Without fear or regard for his own safety, he blocked our path no matter how I tried to shift the horse. The horse was clearly intimidated by Voltaire, more than the other way around in the end. Despite his general temerity around horses, when faced with doing his duty for Loveless,Voltaire was faultless in his devotions. I alit from the horse but obviously was not going to have greater success eluding Voltaire, although I gave it a farcical try for a minute. At least Voltaire's smile told me it was farcical from his point of view. That was the end of my outdoor treks for the foreseeable future!**_

 _ **Love, Kat**_

"Indeed, Mr. West, it was the end of her outdoor time for the duration. Unfortunately, it was the not the end of her efforts to turn Voltaire." The doctor seemed more than a little perturbed about that aspect, Jim noted as Loveless read silently, flipping pages of the diary, tutting, hawing, chuckling, growling, fake sniffling. "Nothing of great substantive interest. Eating, lamenting — which her exclamations merely attempt to cover — and more swelling of her belly." He flipped more pages. "Thinking aloud. Plotting and beginning to panic that you have not figured it out yet," the doctor snorted.

Jim stood placidly, determined not to overreact no matter how it ate him inside. This part was a poker game set within a chess match. The doctor had already revealed most of his pieces but Jim was still trying to figure out their positions on the board.

"She did not fare well confined, your wife, something of a problem for me and a source of distress to Voltaire, whose involvement with your wife became a source of distress for Kitten who harbors illusions, well, never mind. Back to your wife's words to you."

 _ **Dearest Jim,**_

 _ **As my belly grows, I know my opportunities shrink. My confinement to my chamber, though generous in space, weighs heavily upon me. I pace. I fret. I talk to our baby and tell him or her of our lives and what I wish for him or her. I apologize for the stress I know I convey to the baby in my diminishing state. If I cannot turn Voltaire, I see no hope. And the wicked truth of this is that I feel guilty for trying to exploit a certain tenderness in him.**_

 _ **Today, the doctor brought his wife to visit me. I could feel for this woman who had lost a nearly full term baby as I might in a wholly different manner soon. He placed her hand upon my belly and told her of his plans for their child, "an apologetic gift from our dear friend James West for all the trouble he's caused us through the years."**_

 _ **Jim, I expected that she'd be repulsed at these words, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, she smiled and danced around the room with the little doctor, their voices joining in sing song. I had imagined she would spurn this ridiculous offer of his, but this was a broken woman who was reborn before my eyes, to my abject disappointment and despair.**_

 _ **Voltaire saw it in my eyes and body. Was it sympathy I saw? Empathy? It was a fleeting moment as the doctor called upon him to fetch wine for us all to celebrate. I suppose you can imagine what I did with the glass given to me. Only Voltaire's strong arm prevented me from slicing the doctor with the jagged edge left behind. Only tin cups for me after that maneuver!**_

 _ **Love, Kat**_

"She truly puts on a brave face for you on paper, Mr. West. She was far more distraught than she lets on. Still, I had a vested interest in her staying well a little longer, so the games continued in a different fashion."

 _ **Dear Jim,**_

 _ **My chances for escape are probably past. I'm not fit to outrun a lame old mare right now and it could be several weeks or two months before the baby comes. Time has lost meaning to me. I have on more than one occasion pondered whether it was proper to deprive the doctor of his victory by taking my own life and that of our child. Each time I stopped myself, reassuring myself that so long as you live, the baby will have a chance at a life worth living away from this egomaniacal monster.**_

 _ **"Honestly Mr. West, I have treated her most fairly. This constant name calling is so juvenile and annoying!" Loveless complained sarcastically.**_

 _ **Jim ignored the fake outrage expressed by Loveless and said nothing. He was too worried about hearing what might come next.**_

 _ **Thinking I might go crazy with no outlet, I begged for some sort of instrument to make music upon, something — anything — to distract me. Okay, maybe I fantasized that if only I had one, a guitar string could be used to strangle the doctor! To my surprise, Voltaire rolled an upright piano through my door days later. I had no music, but played what I could from memory, which was more than I expected, although memory might have played some tricks on me and I mixed up parts and pieces.**_

 _ **Voltaire often stayed to listen. He appreciably lightened at Mozart. When I played certain tunes, it was clear he knew the words and was singing along in his head. Particular parts drew his response and I began to think he had uttered some sounds while I played, high sounds only. Was it my imagination? One day I was playing and I was certain he'd hit a note. I stopped suddenly.**_

 _ **I asked him if he could sing. He shrugged. I told him I heard him make sounds, that I did not believe him a true mute. He shook his head vehemently in denial. I told him I'd heard sounds, high and lilting, and they most certainly came from his mouth. He again denied it with his head shaking. And then it came to me. I knew without a doubt. I knew why I had such sympathy for him from the beginning. But I was, as typical, impolitic. I blurted it out.**_

 _ **"Castrato! You poor man." I reached out for his cheek, but he grabbed my hand and pushed it away. He looked inconsolably sad and fled. My emotional state plummeted after this episode. For two weeks, I had no visit from him. I'd failed in gaining him as an ally and I'd alienated him by guessing at his condition. If I'd had any hopes of an escape aided by him, they were dashed by my own rashness.**_

 _ **Jim, this may be my last note to you. I know you did your best with what you knew or were led to believe. If you haven't found me by now, there seems little likelihood you shall in the remaining time I have. I know it isn't fair for me to leave these words behind lest you should ever hear them. Yet putting what has happened to paper helps me know what is real and my sanity may leave me soon, so please forgive me for continuing.**_

 _ **The doctor and his equally warped wife come more regularly. They lay their hands upon my belly to feel "their baby"! They laugh at my circumstances. They cackle with delight at your comeuppance at their hands. They tell me the names they picked for our child! Miguelito Jr. for a boy — no surprises from the egotistical little man there. Mica for a girl. Arrogant bastard!**_

J _ **im, I don't want them to have this baby. I could remove a wire from the piano and cut myself to spare this end. Why, though, do I hold on to improbable hope after hope and not do it? What if they elude you forever and warp our child to their depraved thinking? Is it fair to the child? I spend a lot of time abed now, consumed by such sad and terrifying thoughts, unable to commit to a course of action, embarrassed that I cannot.**_

 _ **If it was just me, I think it would be easy. Then I think, what if Jim shows up tomorrow, Artie at his side, and I am dead by my own hand? Is it fair to him? Would he do that to me? No, I know the answer. Jim never quits, Jim never gives up. It's one of the many things I admire and love about you. I miss you so. I once thought I could never live without my horses. But I can tell you now it has been far easier to live without them than without you.**_

 _ **I'm sorry, Jim. I'm rambling. Let me bring you to the near end. Just when I was at my lowest, not even interested in food, Voltaire began to reappear trying to cajole me to eat more. I paid him little mind. He might be sympathetic to me, but his loyalties were clear. I'd wasted so much time and energy trying to corrupt him when I should have tried to break for freedom at every turn when there was any real hope unlike now with my belly swollen and my legs too.**_

 _ **Voltaire implored me to play piano again. He plunked his clumsy fingers on the keys, making a terrible and annoying racket that I could only stop by taking over at the keys. But I was merciless in my response when I chose the song I played, a song written for a soprano playing a man, but ideal for castrato: Voi che sapete from La Nozze di Figaro. I expected Voltaire would flee in anger again, but I was wrong. I was not far into it when I heard Voltaire's unnaturally high voice begin fully accompanying my playing. His singing was so beautiful that I became lost in the song for a while, and only stopped shortly before the end. I begged him to leave. Voltaire shook his head. I begged again.**_

 _ **"Voltaire, I am a prisoner, deprived of all I love, my baby to be stolen from me before my life is taken next. You are here to help this happen. Please go." Voltaire stayed put. "I would use you for my ends as much as Loveless if given a chance, don't you see!" Voltaire extended a hand toward my cheek. "You are my jailer, no less, no more. I will entertain you no longer." I slammed the key cover down and watched as my words at last connected and hurt the gentle giant. He gathered himself and left.**_

 _ **That was that, Jim. Voltaire had opened himself up and maybe given me one more hope at using him to escape and I'd thrown it away. I wasn't even sure why I did it except I felt dirty and ugly and low, like I was betraying the trust of a friend not a jailer. Too much time in captivity, I suppose. I remember reading more than one story where a hostage comes to view their captor as a friend or loved one, borne of dependency and despondency and the need for human contact.**_

 _ **I am so disappointed in myself, Jim. You will be disappointed in me too, not taking advantage of a chance, any chance, to free myself as you would have. Maybe I deserve this fate. I should by all rights have died in the fire in New Jersey. Or at the hands of Criolla. If I had, you never would have been hurt. Your life would have gone on much as it always had, a life you much enjoyed. I know emotions are clouding my rationality now, Jim. I am so tired. The baby sucks what energy and life I might have left by growing leaps and bounds as it is his or her right to do. Forgive me my ramblings. A late term pregnant woman being held captive for months by a demonic madman planning to steal the baby and raise it as his own might be expected to be push a girl over the brink of sanity. I'm afraid I'm close now if not gone.**_

 _ **Love and apologies, Kat**_

"Oh, this sounds so sad now, doesn't it Mr. West!" Loveless taunted gleefully. "I thought she was made of sterner stuff like you, but apparently not. Then again, imagine how we might behave like if we had bellies swollen out to here," he demonstrated a large belly with his hands, "and our every lifeblood was being sapped by the creature growing within. Much better for someone else, women I say, to do that dirty work!"

If looks alone could kill, Loveless would have been struck down by Jim's moist glare. No husband and father-to-be could react otherwise to such words of despair. Add to that Jim's guilt for bringing his own enemy upon her. Jim reminded himself to breathe. This was only the poker game preceding the chess match to come. Jim had yet to move a single piece on the board. He fought for self control through diversion.

"Is Voltaire really a castrato?"

"That's right, Mr. West, you've never heard Voltaire speak? Mr. Gordon has though, although I'd be surprised if he remembered it given Voltaire knocked him unconscious moments later."

"He never mentioned it to me. I'm sure if he'd heard a castrato voice out of that body, he wouldn't have forgotten easily."

"Well, had he remembered, it would have been more of a baritone at the time. I was experimenting with herbs and tinctures to help lower his voice. Sadly, his body did not react well to the medicines and he has ceased taking them as I work on other possibilities."

"It is true then?" Jim was astonished and confused.

"He was older than most when it was done, so he grew more than most castrati do. Sadly, that also made it a far more traumatic experience for him. With a great deal of physical training, he has covered noticeable shortcomings in his physique, but the voice, that has proved more difficult. Now, enough of these distractions, are you ready for the last entry, Mr. West?"

Jim said nothing but extended his palms open to Loveless indicating he should continue if he wished.

 _ **My dear Jim,**_

 _ **The end is near. What exactly that end is for me, I don't know yet. I only hope it is not your end as well. The little monster has revealed things to me that I did not know until now, some I guessed and others that surprised me.**_

 _ **I am told you are perilously close to finding me. I am ordered to write a plausible cover story for my disappearance full of lies and half truths to throw you off the trail. I test Loveless's knowledge of my past brought up in this letter — much of which the newspaper accounts in New Jersey and a little research would explain — by embroidering reality a little.**_

 _ **An hour later, I am forced to rewrite the letter with revisions of things Loveless should not be privy to know. He is more than delighted to edit my words to conform the facts confirmed or denied by my loving father! Loveless brags that he has bought him for a "trifling amount" that he says was easily covered by the pesos Loveless stole from the Bank of Madrid "for the sheer fun of punishing that horrible bank manager."**_

 _ **After I rewrite the miserable letter the second time, I try to sign the letter in a way that may attract your notice to its incredulity, signing it "Olga," that despised middle name that I forbade you to repeat long ago, but Loveless has been on top of me from the beginning. He has read this diary all along, while I sleep or bathe or use the commode or by means of some trickery, I do not know. He knows I always sign my letters to you "Kat" and that is what I must rewrite on the final draft of the letter.**_

 _ **At last, I fully comply with what he wants. I am too tired to fight anymore. I rewrite the pack of lies and sign it as he directs. I hope that you will believe it too. I do not want you to come now because nothing good will come of you arriving now, my love. Even though Loveless stages this misdirection, I think that Loveless actually expects you and wants you now. He would terrorize you using me as the tool.**_

 _ **He also makes threats against Artemus and Lily, dear Lily. I comply because he means it, Jim. At this point, I do not consider my life worth the risk to others — something I know you have understood well throughout your career. As to the baby, you will find him or her eventually, I know. But not now I hope. Let Lily and Artie have this time in peace, the time we were denied. It will be many years before Loveless can really try to turn our child to his dark and demented ways. Frankly, until then, I think that he and Antoinette might not be so terrible as parents, as both are so given to childlike qualities. At least our child will hear lovely music from them.**_

 _ **Just when I think I will be free of the bastard, however, Loveless has suggested that instead of killing me when he no longer needs me to nourish the baby (which he had assured me would be immediately after we leave here and he obtains a wet nurse), he intends to lock me up in a sanatorium in case he has need of me later. What he means by this is only limited by his warped mind, but I understand him to have true pretensions to taking over a royal throne in Germany or Russia using our child — no matter how remote these possibilities may seem to my imagination — and also to keep me as a perpetual threat against you.**_

 _ **I will not allow him to do this to me, Jim. After the baby is born, I will use whatever means at hand to escape continued captivity in any way I can with no regard for whether I get out alive or dead. I am so far gone in spirit and energy, though. Loveless knows this and will be on guard for it. Perhaps I can somehow convince or bribe the midwife he shall call soon. Perhaps his plan to bring the pregnancy on early by some kind of potion will endanger me even more than he says is probable and I will simply fade away with birth. I will accept that fate. But for now, Jim, I need you to be patient. Protect Artie and Lily, and yourself, so you may be there for our son or daughter in the near future.**_

 _ **With lasting love, Kat**_

"I hope you enjoyed our little bedtime reading, Mr. West." Loveless smiled at his triumph as evidenced by Jim's stricken look and moist eyes. Loveless then casually tossed the diary at Jim's cage. It hit the bars and fell a foot outside the bars. Jim would be able to reach for it later if he wanted it. "I do have a bit of curiosity about something, Mr. West. How did you really know the letter was untruthful given I vetted the facts so carefully and it was in her normal handwriting observed over the course of months? I do not believe you disregarded it solely on the basis of a guess about the freshness of the ink."

Jim breathed deeply, fighting to contain his anger and aggression. Neither would serve him well now. "She would not have signed it 'Kat'. She'd have signed 'Olga' if it was authentic."

"Interesting. That was the signature that led me to make her rewrite the second draft to remove it, believing it a tip off to you that the words were false. Yet every single diary entry from the first day was signed 'Kat' as though she had thought ahead to a day I would use the diary against her. I may have underestimated her. Our child is truly fortunate. It will have the qualities of cleverness, strength and good looks from its birth parents, enhanced by the wonderful education and upbringing that Antoinette and I shall give it."

Jim felt his control slipping and his anger welling. He reached for the diary and flung it at Loveless in a pointless gesture.

"I'm afraid there will be no supper for you now, Mr. West. You have behaved poorly in response to my hospitality in reading you such delightful passages. Besides our supplies are running low and I'm certain you would cede your share of what's left to your beloved bride and the child's comfort anyway!" Loveless's eyes grew wide with delight. "Tomorrow, the game ends, Mr. West. The child will be born. You will die. I, Miguelito Quixote Loveless will win the last round!"

"Blah, blah, blah," Jim said in a calm and measured way, focusing his steely glare on Loveless and harnessing his emotions.

"Mr. West, I know your game by now. You are beaten. Mr. Gordon and his wife boarded the train for Paris and did not exit. Mr. Gordon will not return for a week when I will be long gone, but even if he does, the police chief will detain him from interfering with my plans. You are without your usual tools to effect an escape. I have taken everything from you. Still you pretend to have something up your sleeve! But I know that you have nothing. I own the mayor, the police chief, and no one enters this estate who is not under my dominion and watch. Please, for once, do me the honor of graciously conceding defeat. Perhaps I will be more inclined to extend mercy to your bride if you do so. You know that instead of inducing labor, I could merely cut the child from her belly and take it. Would you like to hear her scream as I do that?"

"Enough!" Jim's face roiled in anger and the entire cage rattled as he shook the bars with his rage. "You never know when to stop, Loveless. You win. I lose. You've done enough to Kat. Be as kind as you know I would be to Antoinette if our positions were reversed!"

Loveless pondered Jim's response thoughtfully. "I concede that you always have been more gallant towards women than me, Mr. West. Here, perhaps reading the rest of this will give you some comfort until the sun sets," Loveless said as he cautiously placed the diary just within Jim's reach through the bars.

Jim silently cursed that the little man didn't come two inches closer so Jim might have reached out and throttled his neck through the bars!

"Till tomorrow, Mr. West, when you will finally be reunited with your wife. For a short while anyway!" Loveless's cackling laughter trailed up the stairs out of the basement along with his body.

Jim sank down dejectedly against the bars. In a few minutes, he gathered himself, drank a large cup of water and allowed himself to fully process all he'd just heard. Without thinking, his hand reached outside the bars for the diary. Touching it made him feel physically close to Kat for the first time in months. He read the first entry as Loveless had before, but this time he heard it in Kat's voice. Then he abruptly shut the book. There might be time ahead to read it all, to suffer more the daily recriminations of having failed to rescue Kat, but it was more important that Jim's time was spent resting and mentally preparing for what still was to come. A number of variables had to fall securely in place, ones over which Jim had no control from the cage. And there were always wildcards that could screw up even the most detailed plans, for better or for worse.

Jim closed his eyes and rested against the bars. Loveless was right. He had bested Jim for months now. But that was about to end even if Jim appeared helplessly locked inside an iron cage!


	14. Confession Is Good for the Soul

Chapter 14 - Confession Is Good for the Soul

"Ah, come in, Jabot. I see you are packed and ready for our excursion."

"Yes, a night away is just what I need. Between the new grandchild's colic keeping me up half the night and then this morning . . .," the police chief's voice quieted and he shook his head slightly.

"We had no choice," Mayor Bocuse said softly, but without enthusiasm.

"It's gone too far. I feel like I led the lamb to slaughter."

"We don't know that for certain. The Americans are so melodramatic after all. We do not know that Monsieur West will come to any real harm. He may just be waylaid. Even his partner seemed to doubt his assertions about the little man."

"We got in over our heads on this one, Bocuse. We'll be lucky to get out with them. If it were just the Americans, but they have involved the President and the Sûreté. Perhaps we should consider making a deal?"

"No, Jabot, it is too late."

"For you. You can go anywhere. I have a family!"

"That never stopped you from taking a bribe before," the mayor said.

"It is one thing to turn an eye away from theft and petty crime, but kidnapping and murder are different!"

"Again, Jabot, we do not know these things have happened or shall happen. We have done little more than aid the man with housing, supplies and workers who will keep silent. There is nothing so horrible in that."

"But his prior crimes, if I had known more about them, I would never have helped the man!"

"At the time, I don't recall you caring to know the details, Jabot. It's a little late to develop a conscience."

Police chief Jabot looked ashamed at the truth and changed the subject. "Has he sent any word yet?"

"No, and Baron Munchenhauser's coach will be here for us shortly. We cannot wait much longer! My message to the little man said that we would leave at 14:00 prompt. I have already dismissed the staff for the day."

"Yes, by all means, we must hurry off upon a sudden and unexpected invitation for a last minute evening of gambling and a day of fox hunting in Alsace because the weather is so lovely — even if Monsieur and Madame West's lives are at risk!"

"Get control of yourself, Jabot, or you will find yourself out of a job sooner than you like." Just then a pigeon landed on the ledge of the mayor's window and cooed loudly. "Get the message off that filthy creature, Jabot."

The police chief followed orders. "It's Loveless. He sent a list of supplies he wants delivered, which means we'll have to send someone ahead to cut back the overgrowth on the paths to get a cart through. He also demands the best midwife in town. All are to arrive by ten tomorrow morning. He promises he will pay us in full then."

"Damn him!" Mayor Bocuse railed. "He has a full week before he has to worry about Gordon returning. We made that clear to him. Why could he not wait a day or two longer?"

"Even you can hardly ask a woman in labor to wait to deliver a child, Bocuse! So what are we to do now? The Baron's coach should be here momentarily," the police chief advised as he began to fret. "What would happen if we did not comply with Loveless's demands?"

The mayor paced around the room anxiously. "Loveless is in no position to harm us, but if we do not comply, we may not receive the final payment."

"I say let it go."

"All the risk we have undertaken will have been for so little then. No, no. You go ahead to the Baron's. Perhaps it will give you a chance to calm down some. You can make my apologies to him as well."

"Are you certain?" Chief Jabot queried.

The mayor shrugged. "It is what must be done. I would trust no one but the two of us to bring the money back safely after dropping off what he requests. Send Loveless back a note by that dirty bird saying that things will be done as he asks on the condition that the final payment is deposited just inside the front gate. I want to see it with my eyes before I deliver anything to him."

"What about the midwife? Do you just plan to leave her there at his mercy?" Jabot asked a little startled.

"I'm certainly not going to stick around and wait for a woman to give birth, Jabot. That could take hours or days, hours that I will use to prepare my own departure. I tell you, I will be glad to see the back of the little devil before he brings ruin upon us."

"You are going to leave town afterward?" Jabot asked as he wrote and attached the note as directed.

"Yes, what choice do we really have? We know within the week Gordon will return. When he discovers West is missing, things could turn very ugly for us here."

"What about me?"

"I will meet you at the Baron's tomorrow afternoon with your share of the money. We will be safe enough at his estate for the time being. He's no friend of the law of France, well, with limited exceptions," the mayor winked at his police chief.

"I . . . I . . . my family?"

"That is for you to decide. You can arrange to meet them somewhere later, or you can start over as I plan to. I have in mind southern Italy. If you want, since Gordon won't be a problem for six more days, you might even risk coming back here to collect them. It is up to you. Now, before you leave, what midwife would you recommend I summon? It should be someone who will not be missed quickly."

Police chief Jabot sighed heavily as he thought. "Sister Agathe. She is the most experienced of any one in the village, but she is old and it would shock no one if she were not to return from a birthing."

"Very well. Get going, Jabot. At the least you will get a good night's rest away from children. That should help you think more clearly."

Jabot nodded. "I fear we shall rue this the rest of our lives, my friend," Jabot said as he shook the mayor's hand. "If only we had known what the little man was up to earlier . . ." he trailed off in regret.

"We would have demanded more money," Mayor Bocuse finished for him with a snide smile.

Just then Artemus Gordon and Inspector Girard stepped through an adjacent door, guns drawn and aimed.

"You are under arrest, Monsieurs, for gross abuse of office, for giving aid to an international felon, and by the time we have finished scrutinizing your affairs, a hundred other charges, no doubt," Inspector Renaud Girard stated.

"How did you know?" the startled mayor asked.

"To start with, six weeks ago, an employee of the British embassy was in Verdun visiting his wife's family. He had seen the posters for Loveless and his entourage at the embassy. He came to you and your police chief here saying he believed he'd seen Voltaire and Kitten. You promised to attend the matter with due haste and zeal," Artemus said.

"That damn man!" the Mayor interrupted. "Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut?"

"Because I ran into him at a party two nights ago at the British embassy and when he learned I was with the Sûreté, he related the story to me," Inspector Girard explained as he took the mayor in his grasp to handcuff him.

"Jabot, I told you that you should send have sent the man a note telling him that we'd looked into the matter and concluded it was not them!" the Mayor scolded his police chief.

"And I told you that we should have instructed the little man to leave Verdun then! Instead you sent him servants so his people would keep out of sight," Jabot retorted.

"Sending him my niece and her leech of a husband was the perfect solution to keeping them hidden for the duration. If you had just listened to me, Jabot, we would not be in this mess!"

"Enough!" Artie yelled at the spatting conspirators.

"Tell me where can I find Sister Agathe?" Artemus asked Chief Jabot while holding a handful of his collar. Jabot looked worried, but remained silent.

"You have two choices, Jabot," Inspector Girard said as he held the mayor in his grasp. "You can cooperate with us freely and hope for some mercy from the courts or I can let Monsieur Gordon acquire your cooperation in a less pleasant manner."

"Don't say another word, Jabot!" the mayor yelled.

Inspector Girard's right fist launched into the mayor's soft belly a moment later. "I think listening to your friend here has gotten you in enough trouble already," Girard said with a calm that belied the violent act he'd just committed and served as a warning.

"The lives of my partner, his wife and their baby are at risk, Jabot," Artemus urged the conflicted man.

"I will tell you everything I know and help in any way I can," the police chief promised. "I only wish I knew more than I do."

"Let's swap off, Renaud. You learn what you can from him and get him to help arrange the supplies and contact with the midwife. I need to study the mayor's face for a bit."

"As you wish, Artemus." Renaud pushed the winded mayor in Artie's direction.

Artie settled the handcuffed mayor in his office chair, then went to the anteroom to collect a bag he'd left behind. Artie took a seat opposite the mayor and opened his bag of tricks, first pulling out a mirror. He then began the transformation of his own visage into a replica of the mayor's. Fortunately a great deal of facial hair promised to make it a quick job. Artie had already trimmed the fake beard and wig to approximate size. As he worked, he kept an ear to Renaud's interrogation of the police chief.

At the conclusion of Artie's transformation, Renaud Girard complimented Artemus. "Amazing, Artemus. It is always such a pleasure to see you work! Time for the closet for these two now, oui?"

"Yes, that should be fine since the mayor gave his staff a holiday tomorrow for that little junket to Baron whatshisname's?" Artie pushed the mayor towards the closet as they spoke. The police chief put up no resistance.

"Munchenhauser, a most loathsome man. Someday we will catch him on this side of the border," Renaud said wistfully as he closed the door on the pair of conspirators.

"Well, he proved very useful to us on this occasion. Maybe we should send him a thank you note," Artie quipped. "Although since he has no idea that he invited those two in the first instance, perhaps not!"

"It was a brilliant idea, Artemus."

"I'm full of them, just ask Jim. Of course, I couldn't have done it without your contribution."

"Ah, a name, what is in a name?" Renaud jested.

"Lots if you have a file that tells you the Mayor of Verdun is in the pocket of the man with the name," Artie acknowledged.

"It was one of the rare times that intelligence about the Baron has proved useful," Renaud sighed. "If only we were not such different sizes of men, Artemus, I would ask you to transform me into the police chief for tomorrow's work, but alas, maybe another time?"

"It would be my pleasure, mon ami," Artie said.

"Is there anything else I can do tonight to help beyond arranging for the cutting of the passes and the preparation of the supplies?"

"I think you've done plenty already and deserve a little rest, Renaud. You must have been traipsing after these two through the night."

"In a manner of speaking. By the time Bocuse ran to catch Jabot's ear yesterday after we all first met, I had taken a page or two out of your book. It was a janitor who heard their discussion where Bocuse dispatched Jabot to send a pigeon to Loveless about you and Jim. Then later it was a weary traveling salesman who caught up to Chief Jabot as he traveled down the northern road returning with an envelope that later made its way to Jim at the hotel."

"And in between all that you managed to arrange the fake telegram from the Baron and intercept the mayor's response! Impressive." Artie acknowledged his friend with a smile of professional respect.

"My wife, she too is impressed at my stamina!"

"Uh, yes, on that topic, perhaps since you seem so tireless, you could see to Lily's safety in the hotel tonight until I return from visiting the midwife?"

"It would be my pleasure, Artemus. What name is Lily using there?"

"She shall have checked us in as Monsieur and Madame Petitgenet, but I don't want her interacting too much at the hotel. Her accent is exaggerated stage French and her vocabulary is high school level covering the basics of greetings, farewells, taking taxis, telling time and ordering off a menu, well, with a little kitchen French thrown in. How I'd like to erase those words from her pretty lips!"

"Is Lily in disguise too?"

"Yes. We both changed on the train out and then returned from the next stop at Sainte-Menehould in a hired carriage. Lily is blond today, hair in a chignon and, if she's heeded my warnings, she's shooting intimidating, withering looks around so she can avoid making small talk in French."

"It will either be a snap to find her or she will blend in perfectly with the local women!" Inspector Renaud Girard laughed. "What a pair you two make! Although I would suggest that you did look a little too Belgian when I met up with you earlier."

"Oh, well, thanks for the review," Artie said a bit taken aback. "I'll add it to my stack."

"No offense meant. You are still the master, Artemus."

"Yes, and next time you play a janitor, Renaud, you might dirty up the shoes a bit."

"But Artemus, I could not. They are Italian!"

Artie shook his head. "Amateurs!"

"In that respect, I humbly acknowledge I am so," Renaud smiled graciously before he turned serious. "Artemus, do you think this plan will work?"

"It has too. Jim and Kat's lives depend on it. A child's too."

"Are you certain Jim made it inside alive?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be surprised if Loveless trapped Jim on the way in with the help of those two buffoons, but Loveless wouldn't kill Jim right away. He's not worried about me for a week and until the baby arrives — which I'm guessing by the request for the midwife tomorrow isn't happening just yet — he's got some time to torment Jim first."

"You mean torture, don't you?"

"Knowing Loveless as I do, I suspect that in this instance physical torture won't be first on the agenda. He's effectively tormented Jim emotionally for months. As he closes out his plan, I think he will be satisfied to continue that tack. Frankly, it's Loveless's most effective weapon yet against Jim."

"Do you think we can expect Jim to be of significant help when we arrive?"

"One never knows with Jim. He may have five weapons or tools on his body still or none. He may be waiting for an opportune moment to act or be helpless until we arrive. That's why he always like to keep me around in reserve!" Artie allowed himself a small chuckle.

"What will I be able to do to help tomorrow?" Renaud asked.

"Well, someone has to carry the supplies inside. Mayors are above such nonsense."

"You mean to tell me that the only help you need from the finest Inspector of the Sûreté is as muscle? I am in fine shape, my friend, but my mind, it is a terrible thing to waste!"

"You might have let me finish, Renaud. Maybe the person who takes in the supplies doesn't leave but seeks out an old friend from America. Perhaps he passes him tools of the trade to help him escape if needed."

"Artemus, are you suggesting that I am to have the honor of playing you tomorrow?" Renaud asked with genuine graciousness.

"Now there's a real devil of an idea! You dress as me dressed in disguise to rescue Jim! If only you were eight inches shorter, Renaud, it might work!" Artie beamed at his thought.

"I blame my mother's side of the family," Inspector Girard nodded.

"If the mother's side is at fault, I was lucky not be a just a few inches taller than Loveless," Artie acknowledged with a fey wave of his hand.

"Until later then, mon ami," Renaud Girard said as they split off to attend to separate tasks.


	15. Staging the Show

Chapter 15 - Staging the Show

In the morning, Artie disguised as the mayor set off in a wagon loaded with the provisions requested. He was accompanied by Sister Agathe in dark habit with her midwifery tools. The cart was driven by a tall and well built local named Bastián. By the time they arrived at each of the cut offs, the overgrown vegetation already had been cut away by an unseen hand making room for the cart. After they passed through the second cutoff, a burly man on horseback who'd done the cutting waved to them and followed until he was instructed to stop and conceal himself from view of the castle gate or windows.

When Artemus, Sister Agathe and Bastián arrived at the gate, a jumpy Kitten opened and secured it behind them. Kitten showed no semblance of recognition of Artie in his disguise. The first hurdle was cleared.

Artie then demanded to see the money before allowing the cart to go further. Kitten pointed to the satchel. Artie told her to open it, but he had to mime what he wanted to get her to understand. He saw what the merchants meant now; his patience was thinning fast. Kitten brought the satchel to him. He briefly looked inside. "I will count it on the way out," he said in French, but Kitten showed no understanding and just shrugged and pointed to the chateau. Artie directed the cart forward intending to keep the satchel with him, but Kitten reached up and wrested it from him and then repositioned it next to the gate. Artie nodded in grudging acceptance as Kitten led the cart to the front door of the chateau. Kitten waited there until the mayor and nun exited the cart.

"This is Sister Agathe," Artie as the mayor said in simple enough French that even Kitten understood. The word midwife, however, was beyond her ken. Artie mimicked the act of birth to make it clear to Kitten and she eventually got it, by which time Bastián had already emptied most of the supplies from the cart to the ground.

"I'll be heading back to the gate to count my money now that the cart is empty," Artie as Mayor Bocuse futilely attempted to explain to Kitten in French. He again gesticulated the action to her, refusing to speak English. He continued to gesticulate as he told Bastián to meet him at the gate when he was done unloading and said they would return for Sister Agathe later that night unless receiving instructions otherwise by carrier pigeon. Kitten didn't seem to follow, but Artie let it pass in frustration. Artie headed to the gate where he kneeled, opened the suitcase full of cash, and began to count it.

Meanwhile, Bastián moved the supplies into the foyer where the quiet giant Voltaire began to sort them into separate piles for whatever was to come. This soon left Bastián with nothing more to do. After he inquired if he could be of further assistance, Bastián asked Voltaire he could go to the kitchen for a drink. Voltaire nodded "yes" and ignored him as he left.

Bastián walked down the long central hallway passing a thickset armed man who stood against a door with his arms crossed. He fit Jabot's description of the husband of the mayor's niece. The man eyed Bastián warily for a moment, but allowed Bastián to pass, presumably having both seen and heard Bastián's exchange with Voltaire. Bastián soon returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for Voltaire. The giant acknowledged the glass with a grateful nod.

"The old Marquis was rumored to have left behind a wine cellar full of grog. Would you mind if I snuck down through the kitchen to look, maybe to take a bottle to my wife? It is our anniversary and she was to have the day off, but she had to cover the shop so I could bring these things here." Voltaire shrugged, only half listening. Something was on the giant's mind, and it wasn't sitting easy, Inspector Girard posing as Bastián thought. He took advantage of Voltaire's lack of attention and headed by the sentry at the door in the hall to the kitchen once more. From there he went down the back stairs into the cellar which he expected and hoped would connect up to the basement. By asking permission, Girard believed it would seem that his intent was honest and limited to the scope he announced.

Inspector Girard, armed and ready to fire if necessary, cautiously opened the first door off the food cellar — the unlocked one. Under the circumstances, he rather expected it would be the wine cellar. He quickly pulled out the two closest dusty bottles and placed them by the door to take on his way out. Then with due haste, he picked the lock on the second door off the food cellar. He located the dim corridor that he knew must lead to the large underground basement where he believed Jim was held given the position of the sentry in the hall.

Girard padded softly through the corridor approaching what he expected to be one last door. This one was unlocked. Girard stopped and pulled a small bottle from his pocket. He poured some lubricant from a bottle on the hinges and waited thirty seconds for it to penetrate. To his great relief — for he had no certainty as to who or what might be waiting on the other side — the door opened without a squeak. The natural light that flooded the large room was sufficient to guide Girard around obstacles and illuminate hazards.

It was only a moment before Inspector Girard spotted Jim asleep or unconscious in a giant cage whose original use Girard was loathe to imagine. It sat just to one side of the middle of the basement. The basement seemed relatively dry and comfortable. The same could not be said of Jim's limited accommodations: not a straw pallet, pillow, blanket or chair. Nothing was inside but Jim, a bucket, a cup, a pitcher and a small book. Before moving closer, Girard scanned the room more carefully to see if there was a guard in the basement, although he doubted it given the sentry atop the stairs and the padlocked second entrance. When Girard was confident, he approached Jim.

"You've gotten yourself in a fine mess, James," Inspector Girard whispered close by as he observed Jim. "And you're bleeding along your scalp!" he observed with a little surprise.

Jim, who had been leaning against the bars cat napping, looked up quizzically at the man. Jim brought a hand up to his scalp on the side the man was pointing to, observed drying blood on his hand, and fuzzily tried to remember. "So I am."

"What happened?"

"Sometime after sun up a bell rang, and a shot was blindly fired from the top of the staircase. Someone killed the couch over there, see? A few minutes later, another bell rang and a second shot was fired. It hit the wall over there and must have ricocheted along my scalp."

"That was better fortune than receiving it directly," Renaud smiled.

"I'd pay to see the man who could make that shot intentionally from that angle. Anyway, I guess I've been out of it since then. I rather expected Artie, Renaud."

"He's otherwise occupied," the French Inspector apologized. "He dispatched me with presents. Tell me as much as you dare in a minute. The mayor received instructions to bring supplies and a midwife. He has done so and is now counting his reward," Renaud winked at Jim.

"Loveless plans to give Kat something to induce labor early. Then he and Antoinette intend to take the baby and leave for parts as yet unknown, north I think he said. Kitten and Voltaire will be going go in a different direction as a decoy."

"That would explain Voltaire's current engagement in the sorting of piles of supplies. Do you know where your wife is?"

"Not exactly. Upstairs, someplace high I think. I was darted outside the estate grounds when I arrived yesterday and I woke up here like this. I think Loveless plans to bring the show down here to me later today."

"We will be in position for that then."

"No, Renaud. If there is some way to stop them from giving Kat the drug before then, find her and stop it. It could be dangerous to Kat. No need to worry about me now," Jim urged as he began to work on the rusty and recalcitrant lock.

"We'll do our best, James. I best go before Voltaire figures out I've been missing too long."

"Thanks, Renaud. I will owe you big time for this."

"Nonsense. We will maybe be even then. Take heart, James. Things will work out."

On his way out, Inspector Girard as Bastián quickly grabbed the two bottles of wine he'd left waiting and headed back toward Voltaire. The midwife was gone from the foyer as was Kitten. "I need to speak with the midwife about arrangements to get her later," Bastián told Voltaire.

Voltaire shook his head adamantly and pointed Bastián toward the front door. Bastián left to meet up with the Artie. He brought him up to date on Jim's situation, Loveless's plan and shared his belief that things might be moving even faster than Jim or any of them suspected.

"Hopefully Jim should have that cage unlocked by now. He has a knife and the sleeve derringer on him, and a revolver I expect he'll have to store under or in a bucket of piss, or tucked in the back of his pajamas given the lack of other cover."

"Sometimes the doctor is not so generous with his accommodations for us," Artie noted with dripping sarcasm.

"Jim was relieved to see me, Artemus, but compared to when I saw him last, he had a haunted look that worries me."

"You can only push a man like Jim so far. Loveless crossed that line months ago and lord knows what he's said or presented to Jim since he captured him to make it worse."

"One last thing, Artie. Jim pleaded with me to see if we could get to Kat first and not to worry about him at all. He's worried about the effects of the potion Loveless intends to give her."

"If I thought that possible to do that within the boundaries of protecting our charges, I would, but I'm not willing to risk the two women in crossfire in an unknown position somewhere upstairs, especially when we've yet to see Loveless."

"What about continuing to pretend to be the mayor and blustering your way upstairs?"

"I'd have to get past Voltaire, an armed sentry familiar with the mayor, and then fool the doctor with a disguise yet again. I could also run into the mayor's niece along the way and that might spell disaster."

"I didn't see her anywhere."

"With all that's on the line, there's too much risk to explore and try to exploit unknown territory. Besides, I have a lousy feeling it's already too late to stop Loveless from inducing Kat since he summoned the midwife so specifically for ten o'clock this morning. You've got the lay of the basement, Renaud. Explain it to me."

"Nothing complicated. There are two entrances to it. The one in the middle of the house is guarded by the husband of the mayor's niece with a gun at his hip. The kitchen is at the far end of the chateau and was empty when I was there, with no signs of any meals in progress. There's a kitchen door which leads to a food cellar. The door on the far left side of the food cellar, which is no longer locked, leads to a corridor into the main basement. You will emerge behind and to the right of Jim's cage. There's a cleared gap of about twenty feet from Jim's cage to a jumble of dust covered furniture and cartons on the other side of the room. There was no one down there with him when I left."

"Sounds like plenty of potential good cover for me," Artie said optimistically.

"Yes, although a couch recently took a fatal bullet, so be careful."

"What do you mean, Renaud?"

"Jim said someone rang a bell and shot blindly down the stairs this morning, two times. The first shot took out the couch; the second — indirectly — took out Jim."

"Is he hurt badly?"

"No, it was a graze. He was a little fuzzy at first, but rallied quickly. Voltaire is watching us and directing us to leave, Artemus."

"Then I suppose we should. Sort of," Artie winked to Renaud.

Girard as Bastián opened the gate and walked the horse cart with Artemus seated upon it through the gate. Just then, a woman ran hastily toward the cart. "Uncle! Uncle! Wait for me."

Bastián helped the woman up. She kissed her uncle thrice on the cheeks before she suddenly noticed he didn't look quite right, something about the eyes.

Artie embraced her tightly and didn't let go. "Don't say a word Manon if you want to get out of here alive!"

As they continued their close embrace, Girard appeared to close the chateau gate with a loud clang resulting in the lock inside automatically engaging, a point which Bastián proved to a watching Voltaire by physically demonstrating he could not reopen the gate afterward. Bastián then boarded the cart, waved farewell to Voltaire and took the reins of the cart leading it twenty yards down the road. Voltaire returned inside the chateau post haste.

"Who are you?" the woman insisted as they stopped out of view of the chateau. "Did my uncle send you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. He was worried about you and your husband getting out of that house safely."

"He has never worried about Georges before!"

"Why were you sent out?" Artie demanded to know.

"I was told to leave, that my services were no longer required."

"And your husband's services still are?"

"Yes, for another day only I was told."

"Where are they keeping the pregnant woman?"

"The what?" Manon said with what appeared to be genuine surprise.

"Loveless is holding a pregnant woman hostage somewhere in the chateau," Artie said.

"I have never seen her. He has a patient — a mental patient — on the third floor, but I am not allowed to go there. I was told she is very dangerous, violent."

"Is there anyone other than your husband, Voltaire, Kitten, Loveless and this woman in the house?" Artie asked.

"Just the doctor's wife, Antoinette."

"And the man in the basement your husband is guarding?" Artie asked more pointedly.

"Georges has said nothing to me of that!"

"Well, I wish I could trust you, but I'm going to have to leave you in the custody of our friend Gascon for the duration. I advise you cooperate," Artie said handing her over to the burly man along with the horse and cart.

"She is under arrest, Gascon," Inspector Girard ordered. "Restrain her, gently, unless she gives you cause otherwise. Keep her quiet at all costs."

"But I've done nothing wrong! All I've done is marketed, cooked and cleaned!" Manon protested.

Girard waved her off, lacking the time to waste on that discussion. He and Artie — still in costume — snuck back to the chateau clinging to the woods on the side of the road. They quickly and stealthily entered through the deceptively unlocked gate and made for the hedges while no one was in sight.

"I'll go in through the kitchen door and down to the basement. Sounds likely that the kitchen is still empty, at least I hope it still is," Artie said. "I'll probably lose the costume once I'm safely hidden."

"I'll see to clearing the main stairway door once everyone is gathered below and I receive some signal that we are good to proceed. Afterward, I'll join you in the basement as soon as I can."

"See you soon," Artie said and pumped Renaud's hand in gratitude. "Just pray we don't need the contingency plan," Artie whispered with deep concern before he skulked off toward the kitchen entrance on the side of the house.

Inspector Renaud Girard rubbed his forehead after Artie left, momentarily pondering the odd things that were happening and his role in it. Then he sprinted behind the house, crawling through overgrown vegetation until he stopped at the middle of the house by a basement vent. He pulled out the eye scope that Artemus had provided him and nestled one end diagonally at the edge of the vent so he could monitor the action until the time came to act.


	16. Act One: Grand Guignol

Chapter 16 - Act One, Grand Guignol

Earlier that morning, in an upstairs chamber, Kat awoke from a brief and fitful sleep just after dawn. Dread of Loveless's announced plans to drug her to induce the baby to come early had kept her up through most of the night and ruined the quality of what sleep she had. The doctor was hovering above her when she awoke. He immediately tendered her a large glass filled with a red liquid.

"Drink it, Countess," Loveless ordered. When Kat refused to even take the glass from his hands, he grew stern with her. "Voltaire is just outside. I could call him in and have him squeeze you until you open your mouth and then pour it down forcefully, but that seems so unnecessary my dear. You know it is inevitable you will cooperate."

"Let him squeeze the life out of me. Then you'll have nothing to show for your months of trouble."

Loveless laughed at her brave facade. "My dear, you cannot know the extent of my good fortune today, how much I truly do have. I have you. I am about to have your child. And lastly, Olga, I have your husband at my mercy, locked in a cage in the basement fretting about you both!"

Kat's face went ashen.

"Yes, Countess, you did outfox me in that singular respect, the signature on the letter. I give you due credit for that, taking a devious course with me from the beginning by signing your diary entries in an atypical fashion for you. However, all you accomplished was to put your husband in peril sooner than I had planned. Indeed, I must thank you for that. I have enjoyed sharing with him the details of our many months together and my plans for your mutual futures. Now, Countess, I will ask you kindly and respectfully for your cooperation one last time. Take the draught and drink it."

"I cannot."

"Then you force my hand and must accept the consequences of your choice." Loveless set the glass down on the bedside table and walked towards the door, extending one hand just outside the frame. "Since you don't seem to care about your own well being any longer, we must take a different tack. When I pull the cord, a bell shall ring loudly enough to be heard in the basement. A gunshot will follow. The first shot taken will be a warning only. It will miss its target, your husband. If there is a second bell, another shot will be taken. This shot will be to wound Mr. West, but there are no guaranties it will not kill him. If a third bell is required, your husband will be killed. Afterward, you will still be forced to drink the draught with Voltaire's help. Therefore, Countess, I suggest you capitulate and drink it now."

Kat refused to pick it up. The doctor pulled the cord and a loud bell rang. A shot followed moments later. Kat froze for a moment, then shakily reached for the cup and brought it towards her lips. Still, she could not bring herself to drink.

"What if it is too soon for the baby?" Kat asked, her hand trembling and her eyes moistening.

"It has been long enough, Countess. Every part of your pregnancy has proceeded normally. Arriving a week or two early will be of no consequence to the child," Loveless reassured with one hand still on the cord. Kat continued to hesitate. Loveless pulled the cord again. Another shot, louder this time it seemed to her, rang out. Kat cried out and spilled some of the draught.

"Drink it now or be a widow," Loveless warned, his hand ready to tug a final time.

With shaking hands Kat drank the liquid as fast as she could, spilling a good bit.

"How much simpler you could have made that, my dear Countess. Indeed, had you cooperated from the beginning, how much simpler you could have made everything including your own comfort. Now rest while you can, for soon you shall be very uncomfortable and things will turn decidedly more unpleasant for you."

Kat curled up in the bed and released a torrent of tears. They were not the first tears of her captivity, nor were they to be the easiest or last of them. She knew the little man was twisted, but the pleasure he showed at her fear and pain to come and Jim being captured and hurt had finally broken her defenses down completely.

Two hours later as the cramping began in earnest, Kat was visited again. This time Loveless brought a bigger entourage. Loveless, Antoinette, Kitten and an elderly nun stood outside the doorway. "Give me a minute alone with her, please," Loveless said. He proceeded inside and whispered in Kat's ear in English. "If you say the wrong thing, I shall once again pull the cord. Mr. West is injured now; he will be dead if you fail to cooperate again. Play along with whatever I lay out or else. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Kat responded loudly in English, too riddled with pain and anxiety to worry what anyone thought about how she said the word or what language she used.

"Come in, everyone," Loveless instructed returning to French. "Countess, this is Sister Agathe, the best midwife in town we are assured. She will examine you and then we will then take you downstairs to await the arrival of the child."

Sister Agathe turned to the doctor. "Privacy, Monsieur?"

"Non," he replied in French. "I am a doctor after all. I will remain."

The sister tsked in complaint. "Parlez anglais?" she asked Kat.

"Yes!" Kat gulped between pains.

"I thought I heard you speak English a moment ago," Sister Agathe said surprising them all by responding in a British accent as she began her assessment of Kat's condition. "I was born in Leicester and rarely get to speak my native tongue anymore. May we continue in the Queen's language?"

Kat nodded in approval and panted out the word "yes."

"What's a British nun doing in Verdun?" Dr. Loveless asked pointedly.

"I was a novitiate with the Benedictine sisters in London and learned midwifery from them. Then thirty or so years ago, I was called to service by my sisters here when they lost their midwife. I have taught many a novitiate in France and Germany the art and have continued to practice as well. My services are clearly needed here and very soon indeed."

"You are remarkably outspoken for a nun, Sister Agathe," Loveless said with some wariness and concern in his voice.

"My service has not included vowels of silence beyond when I was a novitiate and it is impossible to practice midwifery well without a firm tongue. Nor have I resided with the order in many years now, but live in town with some creature comforts that older age covets. To tell the truth, Doctor, my beliefs as not as pure as when I began."

Loveless suddenly looked pleased. "A world weary nun, how delightful a find! I feel the same way, my dear. Evil and rottenness surround those of us with pure hearts. Difficult steps must sometimes be taken as a consequence. New beliefs must take root. In the interest of smoother proceedings ahead, and our sympathetic views, I feel I should advise you in advance of the odd circumstances into which you have been summoned. Antoinette and Kitten, may I have a moment alone with Sister Agathe please? And Kitten, send up Voltaire as we shall need his brawn shortly while you prepare the basement."

Antoinette and Kitten left the room. "Now, Sister, let me explain the strange situation in which you find yourself. This woman is a Russian noble and a German one too. She is a patient of mine from the sanatorium. Her father entrusted me with her care after she was brutally raped and impregnated and then went mad. My wife, Antoinette and I, who are childless, intend to adopt her baby when it is delivered and hopefully she can then proceed upon a path to recovering both her physical and mental health. I must inform you that I am a doctor of the psychiatric arts, and I am a practitioner who specializes in a very modern way of thinking. I employ the latest techniques of therapy. Some of these might seem quite brutal to you, but when faced with brutal illness, these can often prove more effective than other techniques.

The villain who did this to the Countess was captured recently. We have him with us caged in the basement, lent to us by a sympathetic police officer who captured him in Paris where the crime occurred. The criminal refuses to confess. He is the son of high noble in France and without a confession, he is certain to escape punishment. Yet his punishment and incarceration are essential to the Countess's eventual recovery and return to society. You see the dilemma, yes?"

Sister Agathe nodded slightly, although she looked confused.

"Soon we shall move the Countess — mind you, never overlooking her comfort and safety — to the basement where she shall give birth in front of the beast. He shall see the horror of what he has done and hopefully pour forth words of guilt and attrition that will be used to seal his fate."

"But dear sir, that is so cruel to her. You cannot do such a thing! She will be so frightened," Sister Agathe protested.

"This is where modern psychiatry disagrees with you, dear Sister. By seeing her attacker caged and helpless as she rids her body of his demon seed, she will be set free both physically and emotionally from his torments."

"I have never heard of such nonsense! I refuse to participate."

"Is it nonsense simply because you have never heard of it? Are you so narrow minded after all?" Loveless challenged.

"No, I do not think of myself that way, but it sounds so horrible and cruel to her!"

"If you desire that the Countess deliver this child without assistance, then you are free to leave. However, be advised, by your own assessment there will be insufficient time to summon another midwife and she will have to rely upon untrained hands to assist her and the child."

The sister considered a moment, then nodded. "I do not like it, but I will remain and do my duty."

"You are a true lady of England, dear Sister. I thank you. I hope you will be duly rewarded when you see the success of my admittedly extreme, but effective, techniques."

"I pray that you are correct, dear sir."

"Voltaire, the time has come. Please take our dear Countess downstairs."

Ten minutes earlier, Artie had entered the basement and rushed by Jim in a hurry for cover. Both heard voices at the top of the stairwell filtering into the basement. Artie quickly concealed himself behind and underneath the recently shot dust covered couch.

Kitten trudged down the stairs to drop off a load of bedding which she arranged on the floor.

"We meet again, Kitten," Jim said politely. "I'm glad you survived the spring, but I am a bit surprised to see you helping the doctor in his latest bit of cruelty and insanity."

"Some of us are loyal to our friends no matter what, Mr. West." She ignored him and headed back up the stairs briefly. She huffed and puffed as she trudged two additional loads of linens and toweling down the stairs. She went upstairs yet again and came down with two pails of water. After she got these downstairs and set them down, she plopped heavily on the couch above which Artie was lying. Jim held his breath hoping that Artie didn't get crushed and scream out. When no cry came, Jim nearly sighed in relief that Artie was not audibly hurt, as well as for another reason.

Jim had no way to know how things would actually play out, but he had hoped if he had an opportunity to pick off one player early in the game, it would be Voltaire. If he could eliminate the muscleman first, it might make everything that followed easier. He deemed Kitten hardly worth bothering with. But before Artie had zipped in and taken cover and any of Loveless's minions had come down the stairs, Jim ran into a serious problem with his idea to pick anyone off: the lock pick failed.

There was some sort of obstacle in the keyhole that Jim could not dislodge. Jim pondered that it might even be some sort of adhesive purposefully inserted to prevent using a key or pick to open the lock. Thus Jim found himself armed but stuck in the cage. Jim had tried to communicate this to Artie with gestures while Kitten was on her way up the stairs and momentarily gone, but he wasn't certain that Artie had seen it. Artie was maintaining cover extra carefully and Jim approved of his doing so if it meant less risk to Kat and the midwife. Jim's mind raced with worry as to what Kat was going through at the moment and the peril the midwife had undertaken. It was important to Jim that Artie understood Jim's limitations before Loveless, Voltaire and the women arrived. Jim considered a strategy to use Kitten for that purpose and to help relieve whatever pressure she might be bearing upon Artie just then.

Although Artie felt a little pressure from Kitten's weight plopping down above him, the couch was high enough off the ground that he wasn't crushed, only burdened and pinned. However, Artie's nostrils were irritated by the dust that flew when Kitten dropped. Artie fought with all his might to suppress a disastrous need to sneeze. He stuck his hand out under the front of the cover and waved a finger at Jim to suggest he get Kitten away from Artie in case he did.

Jim pleaded with Kitten. "Please, Kitten. Come here and talk to me."

"No, Mr. West. I know what you will try to do. You will do as you always do, try to turn me against my friends."

"Please, Kitten, just for a minute, come here and talk to me. Even you must admit Loveless has gone too far this time."

"He has his reasons. He has not been unkind to your wife," Kitten responded without moving from the couch.

"Did he give her a nicer cage than mine?" Jim asked pointedly.

"Stop it, Mr. West. I am tired from so many stairs and nothing you say will sway me from helping the doctor."

"You know he's planning on ditching you and Voltaire when he leaves?"

"It's only temporary. We'll be meeting — oh no you don't. I knew I shouldn't even start talking to you." Kitten clamped her mouth shut dramatically and remained seated.

Artie cursed silently from beneath Kitten. Jim had almost drawn her out as to the doctor's ultimate destination. Oh well, he thought, it would be irrelevant if they settled things at the chateau. It was just that the wily rascal always seemed to find an escape route somehow. Loveless planned for failure. It made a lot of sense too, because the escape route was usually needed!

"Please Kitten. Come closer and at least tell me how my wife is. I deserve to know that much. My head is bleeding and anything more than a whisper hurts my head."

Kitten appeared surprised and confused by Jim's comment about his head. With considerable effort, she hoisted herself off the couch. After she rose, she reached down beneath her skirt and pulled a gun out from a calf holster. She trained the weapon unsteadily on Jim. "All right, Mr. West, but no tricks, you must promise me."

"I promise. Besides, it's not like I can get out of here." Jim rattled the cage doors and tugged on the lock to show he was no threat. "Now please, settle down, Kitten. You already hit me once today."

"I what?"

"Bullets ricochet, Kitten. Your first blind shot hit the sofa. The second one hit my head after it bounced off the wall." Jim ran his hand along his scalp where he'd been grazed then showed Kitten his hand, bloodied from where he'd touched the now dried wound earlier.

"I'm sorry, Mr. West. I didn't mean to, honest I didn't. I wasn't even aiming when I shot."

"Let that be a lesson to you, Kitten. When you fire a gun and don't know what you're doing, bad things happen."

The sounds of the rest of the party arriving at the top of the stairs abruptly terminated their conversation. Artie, who'd been peeking out beneath the dust cover while holding his nose to stave off sneezing, disappeared entirely again. Kitten hurriedly returned to the front of the couch where she stood and kept her gun trained on Jim.

Voltaire descended the stairs first, bearing Kat in his arms. With his back to Jim, Voltaire carefully and gently set Kat upon the bedding that Kitten had laid upon the floor. Voltaire's body blocked Jim from seeing Kat's face or her seeing his as yet. As Voltaire got up, Kat immediately began to writhe with cramps. Her eyes were shut so tightly she'd yet to notice Jim. Jim tried to keep an eye on the remainder of the party that followed Voltaire, but he found it difficult to look away from Kat for more than a second. He observed that a nun in dark habit with a sizeable satchel came down next. After her, came Antoinette. She clutched a small leather pouch in her hands. Loveless was last to descend after he issued loud instructions to an unseen party to "guard the door with his life." The doctor made a beeline for Jim once he arrived.

"I've delivered in worse," the nun remarked as her eyes fixed on the man in the cage.

Loveless glared at Jim West while remaining just a few inches beyond his grasp. "You will play along with my deceit of Sister Agathe, Mr. West, or your wife shall not leave this basement alive, nor shall the kind sister who is here to help her give birth. Understood?"

Jim, his eyes fixed on his suffering wife and his hands clutching the bars, nodded.

"May I speak with the fiend?" Sister Agathe requested.

Jim's eyebrows arched quizzically at being described as such by a strange nun.

"Yes, Sister. Perhaps you might offer him some hope at eventual absolution should he confess to raping this poor woman," Dr. Loveless suggested as he moved towards Kat.

Loveless knelt down to Kat's face, which was turned away from Jim, and whispered. "If you don't want to see the midwife or your husband hurt, you will play along with this charade until the bitter end. Understood?" Kat nodded in agreement as she squeezed her eyes closed and gasped in pain.

Sister Agathe walked directly up to the bars of the cage before she spoke. "I could say that you don't look like a man who needs to resort to rape to have a woman beneath him, but that would be most unfair to her, would it not?" Sister Agathe rasped as only old women do.

"I don't recall her complaining at the time. I thought she rather enjoyed it." Jim played along by using a nasty tone although he in fact stated nothing but truth. Jim spit afterwards for effect.

"Vile creature!" the midwife snarled, thrusting her right hand inside the bars and scraping her sharp fingernails down Jim's cheek drawing blood.

Jim startled backwards. He had not anticipated that kind of response. He worriedly studied the nun's face with a steely glare.

"Not so brave with a holy sister, are you?" Sister Agathe mocked as she stood face to face with Jim, negligently within his grasp if he should choose to reach out. Instead, Jim glared down at the lock and shook his head slightly. Then he rattled the door of the cage testing the chains and futilely pulling at the lock while bellowing at the nun who'd marred his cheek. "Let me out of here and I'll take a piece out of your old ugly hide next!"

Sister Agathe, reacting to his frightening words and cage rattling, jumped back and then rushed to Dr. Loveless and Kat's side. "Dr. Loveless, are you certain his cage is secure? I cannot stay here and help if I am worrying he will plunge out of there onto my back!"

"Rest assured, dear Sister, he is completely secured."

"Please make certain for me! I implore you, for my sake and that of all the ladies in this room!"

"Of course, dear Sister." Loveless went over to the cage. He tugged at the lock, dramatically pulling it this way and that, first rattling it upward, then turning it upside down. A piece of metal fell out and clanged to the floor. "Ah, the tip of the broken key. See dear Sister, there was no need to worry ever. Not only has the man no means by which to escape, but even I cannot get him out as the key broke yesterday when he was ensconced here. It will take bolt cutters to remove him and there are none on hand. Now please, I do not think there is much time."

"Yes, her labor is advancing very quickly. Fortunately, the baby is presenting properly and all should proceed smoothly," Sister Agathe declared with definite relief in her voice. She poured water in a basin and washed her hands before placing herself at the foot of Kat's loins. Loveless and Antoinette stood to Kat's side with a clear sight line to James West. They were nearly dancing in eager and happy anticipation of the baby arriving and at observing the effect on Jim as it happened.

Inside the cage, Jim finally understood why he couldn't get the lock open earlier and was miffed at himself for failing to accomplish what Loveless just had: expelling the obstacle. Given the sight lines, it wouldn't be easy for Jim to pick the lock now. Then again, every time Kat gasped, all eyes were drawn down to her. His too. Poor Kat. He hoped she never looked over his way. Let me not add to her pain now, please. Then Jim wondered if she had felt the same and had purposefully not looked in his direction yet. Jim knew he had to shake off such thoughts if he was to be ready to act as needed. He vowed to wait patiently for a chance to open the lock unobserved even if it meant using his wife's pain as a distraction.

Jim scanned the room and made one final assessment of the circumstances. His players were all in position now or would be shortly. They also were aware of Jim's current limitations with the cage still being locked. Hopefully he could resolve that soon, but even if not, he was armed and no longer helpless. All that was progress. So too was the midwife's declaration that Kat was presenting properly and that the birth should proceed smoothly. The only bad news was that despite her pronouncement, Jim now felt woefully unconfident in Sister Agathe's midwifery skills. Jim reminded himself reassuringly that Artie planned for contingencies meticulously most of the time. Please let this be one of those times, Jim hoped.

Jim's eyes were drawn to Kat's face as she suddenly cried out in pain and rolled her head in his direction. Jim's body sagged as he looked at her directly for the first time in nearly five months. Pain, sorrow, and torment were etched upon Kat's face. Those two vultures, Loveless and Antoinette, grinned in delight just above her as they observed Jim seeing Kat clearly at last. Jim drew himself up. He had to be strong for Kat. It would help her to see him upright, confident, and in control, instead of a nervous mess. It was then that Jim, taking in a larger view of the room, saw Voltaire staring at Kat too. Jim thought Voltaire looked an awful lot like Jim felt. She'd made him care about her, for her. Jim read it clearly in Voltaire's face. Her efforts to convert him had been just shy of success. Yet looking at Voltaire now, Jim could not help but wonder when the shit hit fan, where would Voltaire place himself?

Kat began to groan and thrash in serious pain. Jim's heart seemed to skip several beats.

Sister Agathe's hands came up from beneath Kat's skirt. "Thank goodness," she sighed, the accent not so British as it had been earlier, then recovering the British slant to finish. "The baby is about to crown. It won't be long, dearie!"

Three men, two hidden, sighed in collective relief as Loveless and his minions seemed not to notice Sister Agathe's slip in diction. Aware of her mistake, Sister Agathe distracted her audience quickly. "Doctor, it would help if you or your wife held her hands to help her breathe through the pain."

Antoinette didn't move, but the doctor did. "Certainly. You are doing a fine job, Countess. Soon it will be over. Breathe calmly. Ouch!" Loveless screamed and jumped up after Kat crushed his hand in time with a contraction. The little doctor jumped around the room shaking it off. "Voltaire, you do it. She couldn't possibly hurt those branches you call hands!"

Voltaire nodded and leaned down by Kat's side, still in a sight line to Jim West, but with his eyes focussed solely upon Kat. He took her hand in his, patted her arm and nodded as if to reassure her things would be all right. Jim didn't know what to make of it but the time to work the lock had arrived.

Kat began to scream and sweat with further contractions. Jim looked on helplessly, although he'd managed to position the lock inside the cage while no one watched. He worked the pick every moment he felt safe to do so. What to do next if he succeeded was more problematic. If Jim removed the lock, the heavy chains would rattle and hit the floor. He didn't dare do it until the moment was absolutely right.

Then again, even without getting out of the cage, with the distraction of his wife giving birth, Jim might be able to get the bigger and more accurate gun out from beneath the piss bucket and shoot Loveless. But what then? True, Voltaire wasn't holding a weapon, only Kat, but Voltaire was so close to Kat. Jim was an expert marksmen, but this was his squirming pregnant wife giving birth on a basement floor. Even if he could be assured of making the shot, shooting off the head of the man holding Kat's hand and helping soothe her as he loomed by her face, well, no, Jim just couldn't risk doing that. Then there was Kitten, a poor shot with a deadly weapon, who still distractedly aimed at Jim from in front of the couch while she too was visually drawn to the birth. Kitten's reactions could lead to unintended disaster. She'd already accidentally hit Jim once.

At last, the lock clicked open. No one seemed to notice. The moment of action was coming soon if Kat's cries were any indication, but waiting for all the pieces to fall into place was proving to be pure torture. Jim would have given anything to swap places with Voltaire just then.


	17. Act Two: Opera Buffa

Chapter 17 - Act Two, Opera Buffa

Kat let out a cry that silenced the house. Jim saw Sister Agathe reel backwards a little bit at it, another tell that he hoped would not be caught.

"You are only one or two big pushes away, dearie," Sister Agathe calmly told Kat. "Wait for me to tell you to push. Feel free to scream as loudly as you need and squeeze his hand as hard as you must."

Kat writhed. She screamed again, but no command to push was given. Upstairs this scream covered the sounds of a quick scuffle in which a pest guarding a door was eliminated, rendering a French police inspector free to make his way towards friends waiting in the basement.

"It will be very soon, dearie. Just another contraction or two before the finish line," Sister Agathe encouraged.

Jim was breathing nearly as shallowly as Kat in consideration of his wife's pain, the ongoing threats, and out of concern that the midwife might break character fatally.

Voltaire wiped Kat's brow with a handkerchief using his unclenched hand.

"Sing for me, Voltaire. One last time, please. Cherubino's song," Kat pleaded.

This urgent request drew everyone's eyes toward Voltaire, but he didn't notice as he only looked down at Kat. In a high, clear tone, the voice of an angel filled the room singing the words of Voi che sapete.

 _Voi che sapete che cosa e amor,_

 _D_ _onne, vedete, s'io l'ho nel cor._

 _D_ _onne, vedete, s'io l'ho nel cor._

 _Quello ch'io provo, vi ridiro,_

 _E per me nuovo capir nol so._

 _Sento un affetto pien di desir,_

 _Ch'ora e diletto, ch'ora e martir._

 _Gelo e poi sento l'alma avvampar,_

 _E in un momento torno a gelar._

 _Ricerco un bene fuori di me,_

 _Non so chi il tiene, non so cos' e._

 _Sospiro e gemo senza voler,_

 _Palpito e tremo senza saper,_

 _Non trovo pace notte ne di,_

 _Ma pur mi piace languir cosi._

 _Voi, che sapete che cosa e amor_

 _Donne, vedete, s'io l'ho nel cor,_

Kat panted through the next two contractions desperately holding in her cries as best she could so as not to interrupt the beautiful song. As Voltaire began to near the last lines, Kat let out a primal scream.

"Push," Sister Agathe said with urgency. "With all your might, dearie. Keep pushing." Another primal scream followed. A baby and a torrent of blood flowed out, the baby safely caught in Sister Agathe's hands, although Sister Agathe looked a little more surprised at what she held than experience would justify.

"What's wrong with it, Sister?" Loveless asked with urgency upon seeing her face.

"Nothing, I hope. Bring me towels and clean water immediately." The baby was quiet and still. The room became the same way.

Sister Agathe wiped the blood and gunk from the baby's mouth and nose, then massaged its chest. A collective breath was released as a coughing sound issued forth.

"What is it, what is it?" Loveless jumped up and down.

"A boy," Sister Agathe said as she continued to wash the child. "Would you like to cut the cord, doctor?"

There could be no invitation more powerful to the little man stealing a baby from his arch enemy. "I would treasure the opportunity, Sister."

"Leave about six inches for me to tie it off."

Sister Agathe used one free hand to pass him surgical snips. Loveless snipped with glee.

"Let me hold him, let me hold him," the doctor jumped up and down in glee. He laughed and pointed at James West as he did so.

"I must tie off the cord first, so not unless you can be still when you hold him, dear sir," Sister Agathe calmly instructed.

"I'll be calm!" Loveless promised barely able to contain his excitement.

Sister Agathe carefully placed the baby upon a towel on floor, picked up the baby from beneath and gently handed him over to Loveless.

Jim was impressed as Sister Agathe tied the slippery remnant of a cord in a knot close to the baby's belly with a surprising amount of competence. She then tried to wrest the baby from the little man's hands.

"No, he's mine, mine, mine!" Loveless danced when Sister Agathe was done.

"Please allow me to finish cleaning him up, good sir. That white suit will be forever ruined if blood gets on it," Sister Agathe warned.

The little man looked down at the still messy baby in the towel and handed him back to Sister Agathe. "It is a very good custom suit. I suppose I can wait another minute or two."

"A few minutes longer than that is required, dear sir. It would be best for the child's future health and strength if he were to sip his mother's milk at least once. The first milk is the most important he shall ever drink."

"How long will that take?" Loveless paced impatiently.

"Just five or ten minutes, if that. You large sir, if you could hold the Countess up from behind some, it would help. Or move her to the couch perhaps?"

"No, leave her there, Voltaire. Prop her up as Sister Agathe directs."

Voltaire propped up an exhausted Kat as Sister Agathe slipped the baby in her arms. He rooted to the breast immediately.

Loveless grew impatient waiting, but then calmed. What was five more minutes in a scheme that had taken months? He wandered over in front of Jim in the cage. "I got you West! I got you West! Ripped you apart, heart and soul!" Loveless danced within inches of the cage. Jim's right hand slipped through the bars to grab him as Loveless made the mistake. The sleeve derringer was inches away from Loveless's chest and couldn't miss if Jim chose to fire then.

Nearly simultaneously, Inspector Girard burst through the corridor door from the kitchen cellar. He aimed his gun at Antoinette. Artie — without his mayoral disguise anymore — had arisen from behind the sofa and trained his gun on Kitten who stood a couple of feet in front of him. Kitten still held her gun aimed towards Jim.

"Drop the gun, Kitten," Artie ordered.

"I want to, but I can't," she whined.

"Why not?" Artie demanded to know.

"My hand is so cramped I can't move it. I'm afraid if I try, I'll accidentally fire it."

"Just try, Kitten, try very gently," Artie said calmly as he also shot a quick and decisive nod toward Sister Agathe.

Sister Agathe abruptly yanked the baby from Kat's chest and ran up the stairs just as Kitten attempted to unfurl her cramped hand. Kitten groaned and the gun suddenly jerked and exploded. Jim released Loveless and dove for cover. The shot ricocheted off the cage with a loud metallic clang. A moment later, Inspector Girard dropped his weapon. The bouncing bullet had hit his shooting arm. Meanwhile, Kitten — rattled from the gun discharging unintentionally— recoiled into the sofa so hard that it fell backwards atop Artemus, pinning him beneath the sofa and Kitten.

After his release and during the commotion, Loveless had kept a cool head and managed to pull his own gun from his holster. He aimed it at Jim lying on the floor. Antoinette had also seized the moment of chaos and removed something from the leather pouch she had carried. She knelt over Kat holding the item just above Kat's arm.

"Drop it, Loveless," Jim demanded. Jim's derringer remained trained on Loveless even as Loveless retreated backwards towards Voltaire.

"Mr. West, at best you have achieved check temporarily, although I have the bigger weapon and the truer aim now. In any event, you dare not execute. Your supporting cast is down, while mine is anything but. It is you who should drop his weapon."

Loveless was correct. Both Inspector Girard and Artie were down for the moment and Jim was uncertain of their conditions. Moreover, a better glance towards Antoinette revealed the object she held just above Kat's arm was a syringe. The situation had definitely taken a bad turn.

"If you shoot me, Mr. West, Antoinette will inject your wife with deadly poison intended for you. Let me tell you how it works. At first the poison will produce violent muscle contractions throughout her body. Then as the poison slowly works its way towards her vital organs, they will begin to swell and pound as if they are trying to push through her skin. After several agonizing minutes, her eyes will bulge and nearly burst through their sockets and her mouth will gurgle deadly foam. What will you have gained then, Mr. West?"

"I will do it if you don't let Miguelito go," Antoinette confirmed in her bizarrely out of place sing song voice, her finger poised to push the deadly plunger.

"And of course, I have another player active," Loveless taunted. "Voltaire, I want you to place one arm around the Countess's neck and begin to squeeze."

Voltaire gently shook his head in refusal.

"Looks like you're a man down too, Doctor," Jim retorted trying to stall and hopefully buy time for Artie or Renaud to recover.

"Voltaire, after all I have done for you, you must do what I command," Loveless warned in a firm tone.

Voltaire reluctantly complied, at least to a degree. He wrapped his left arm around Kat's neck.

"I said to squeeze, Voltaire," Loveless instructed harshly. "Squeeze until the color is gone from her cheeks and she begins to turn blue!"

Jim started to rise up on his on his knees as the doctor's attention was shifting between him and Voltaire and the doctor continued to back further away from Jim. Jim kept the derringer trained on Loveless as he got up, but both he and the doctor knew the truth. The utility of the derringer diminished with each foot the doctor moved away from it. If Jim intended to fire it, he'd have done so already.

"Drop the gun, Mr. West or the baby could be next," Loveless warned.

Jim instantly regretted that he hadn't dropped the small weapon before the additional threat was issued. He already knew he was in no position to protect Kat's life with it and now Loveless was about to zero in on a fact about which he was not yet aware. Jim would have liked to have bought a few more minutes before that discovery was made. Jim gently set the weapon down still within his reach.

Loveless glared impatiently at Jim. "Mr. West, seriously?"

"You can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Jim, staying bent over, slowly picked the derringer up by the muzzle and placed it outside the bars before he shoved it out of reach of the cage. All the while he hoped that Artie might spring forth with some brilliant solution to this mess. Jim certainly wasn't seeing one at the time.

Instead, to Jim's disgust, all Jim saw was Loveless once again wearing a look of triumph on his face. It didn't last long, however, because Loveless soon realized the baby was nowhere in sight. After a moment of looking panicked, Loveless sighed. "Of course, the good Sister took the baby out of danger's way. Sister Agathe, bring the child to me. It's safe now!" Loveless called with his full complement of charm. When no response came, his tone quickly changed. "Sister Agathe, you heard me, bring the baby to me now! Where did that woman go?" Loveless looked around mystified.

"She ran up the stairs with the baby, Miguelito," Antoinette said in a soft, unsteady voice. This was not the Antoinette of former encounters, Jim observed. That one would have run after Sister Agathe and wrestled for the child. This one was mentally shaky. Jim worried that made Antoinette less predictable, a bad thing given her holding the syringe so close to Kat.

"Then she shall have to come back," Loveless said firmly. "Sister Agathe," he boomed, "you must come back with the baby now or I shall kill the mother and it shall lie on your head!"

"No!" Kat screamed beneath Voltaire's tight — but far from strangling — grasp.

"It's not going to happen, Loveless. The baby is safely away by now," Jim stated calmly.

"She can't have gotten further than the door above the stairs. It is locked and blocked by an armed guard."

"I think you'll find he's nowhere to be found now," Jim informed him matter of factly.

"Sister Agathe, who was she?" Loveless asked with consternation evident.

A new and unseen voice sprang into the conversation. "An excellent stage actress by the name of Lily Fortune, who also happens to be married to one Artemus Gordon," Artie announced as he arose with his gun pointing at Antoinette. Sadly, he could not get a good sight line on the doctor who utilized Voltaire's bulk for protection. "She gave a marvelous performance, if I say so myself," Artie announced.

"I began to wonder about her," Loveless said. "A little too much spring in her step for her age and the accents were off at times. Oh well, she won't get far — either in the theatre or on the grounds."

"She will, even though her performance today admittedly could have used some polishing. However, granted that she has never delivered a baby before, I think she merits an award. As to escaping far, she had a personal armed guard and transportation waiting for her outside," Artemus boasted.

"I have the mayor and the police chief in my corner," Loveless sneered.

"Not anymore, you don't," Artie smiled. "They're tied up for the indefinite future."

"Oh well, they weren't the brightest officials I've ever bribed, I'll say that. Now Mr. Gordon, I know you think your re-surfacing changes the chessboard, but I see it otherwise. I find it impossible to believe that you would shoot a gentle woman like Antoinette."

"I do admit I have some trouble with that, but seeing as she is threatening to kill a dear friend of mine with that needle, I might make an exception today."

"You lie. I see it in your eyes."

"You know, Dr. Loveless, you're correct. However, you might notice that Jim has a more lethal gun in his hand now and he has a bead on you."

Loveless's eyes shifted towards Jim West. Indeed, Jim had secured the larger revolver Renaud gave him earlier during Artie's distraction of Loveless.

"Miguelito, what should we do?" Antoinette asked with desperation and mental infirmity evident in her voice. "That horrible nun has taken our baby."

"Give it up already, Loveless. If you hurt Kat, it will only make what Jim does to you next worse," Artie warned.

Loveless quickly peaked out from behind Voltaire back and whispered something to Antoinette. He then scurried securely behind Voltaire out of anyone's direct aim. Only Loveless's gun remained visible. This he kept aimed in West's direction. Meanwhile Antoinette got lower to the ground using Kat's body as a shield from Jim possibly firing at her while she kept the needle poised perilously close to Kat's skin.

Inspector Girard arose from the floor at this point, gun held shakily in his non-dominant hand in the general direction of the bad guys. "This game has gone a bit off the rails, mes amis."

"I think you could say that, Renaud. At least Lily is away with the baby and your man now," Artie acknowledged with some relief.

"So how do we resolve this next bit, if someone might enlighten me? I'm obviously new to the game," Renaud politely asked as he gazed in Loveless's direction.

"New, yes, but not very clever, whoever you are!" Loveless taunted.

"He would be Inspector Renaud Girard of the Sûreté, Loveless, and he's plenty clever as your friends the mayor and the police chief would attest to if they were present. In my experience, it's the amateurs who ruin the play. Today, it was Kitten and her lack of expertise with a gun," Artie asserted with a brief look towards a stunned and shaken Kitten. She would cause no further trouble.

"I suppose I for one should be grateful for her bad aim as it gave me time to do this," Jim said as with one free hand he pulled the lock off the chains, let the chains drop to the floor and then stepped out of his cage. His revolver tracked Loveless's gun hand, the only part of him visible from behind Voltaire's bulk.

Artie, Jim and Inspector Girard slowly began to advance on the trio of criminals gathered around Kat.

"That's far enough, Mr. West," Loveless warned. "You've backed me into a corner. If I am to die, the Countess will go first!" He moved his body further behind Voltaire and brought his gun around the other side of Voltaire's torso aiming it towards Kat's chest. "All of you will lower your guns now, back up into the cage, and reseal the lock. You will stand by without moving as Voltaire picks up our hostage and we make our exit up the stairs. If you do not do comply, I will shoot her and Antoinette will inject her with poison."

The advancing men stopped in place.

"Shoot him, Jim, shoot him please!" Kat begged and then screamed, "I want nothing more than to live long enough to see their bullets rain upon you, you bastard!"

Everyone in the room froze for a few seconds at Kat's unexpected outburst. Then Jim, staring directly at Kat, broke into a broad smile and let out a small laugh. "You need to take some acting lessons from Artie and Lily, my darling Olga. That was way over the top!" Jim gently set his gun down on the floor and backed up a few feet, while Artie and Renaud merely lowered their guns and backed up as well.

Kat began to laugh and cry at the same time. She and Jim gazed only at each other then, finding solace and comfort in an unexpected moment during which Loveless's threats suddenly seemed meaningless. Even Voltaire seemed to smile a little. He allowed the couple a few seconds before he once again tightened his left arm around Kat's neck, reminding one and all that the threat remained real.

"Give Voltaire a little space, my love," Loveless instructed Antoinette. "It would do us little good if we unintentionally harm the Countess while we make our departure. After all, so long as we have her, we control West and will be able to reclaim the child," he reassured her.

Antoinette sighed at the thought of recovering the baby, then backed the needle off Kat by several inches to give Voltaire room to maneuver safely. Voltaire slipped his right arm around Kat's waist, sending a clear signal that he desired to be gentle with Kat despite Loveless's intentions. Voltaire began to pull her up as he rose from kneeling. Kat immediately drooped woozily off to his left side, appearing to be on the verge of passing out at the sudden movement.

"Is this who you want to be, Voltaire?" Jim challenged him calmly. "A man dragging a woman who just gave birth up stairs to protect the insane man who tried to steal her baby?"

Voltaire looked down at Kat's face with tenderness. A tear dropped from his eye onto Kat's skin.

"No more, Voltaire, please no more! You have found your voice. Don't lose it again," Kat begged and then passed out from exhaustion and blood loss. Voltaire gently guided her head back upon the pillows on the floor.

"What are you doing, Voltaire? Pick her up now!" Loveless insisted. Loveless moved off to Voltaire's right side to face him more directly. Voltaire still did not comply. "Pick her up now, Voltaire! Do as I say, or I'll . . . I'll . . . I'll shoot you!" Loveless screeched as he thrust his gun towards his own man.

Voltaire, still kneeling, looked uncomprehendingly into the eyes of the little man he had served loyally and unquestioningly for years then abruptly swung his torso with his right arm extended in an arc toward the doctor. He knocked Loveless and Antoinette down like nine pins. As they fell, a gun discharged. Voltaire cocked his head oddly before he looked down to see a blossom of blood erupt from his right side. He promptly passed out. Loveless was lying atop Antoinette beside Voltaire.

Artie and Jim were upon Loveless and Antoinette in a second, their first priorities being to secure Loveless's gun and the syringe Antoinette held. Artie firmly placed his right shoe in the small of Loveless's back while Jim pinned Loveless's legs down with his arms. Jim quickly spotted the gun that Loveless dropped after being hit by Voltaire. It lay between the piled pair, Loveless and Antoinette, and Kat. "Hold them firmly, Artie," Jim directed as he let loose his hold of Loveless's legs. Loveless's legs immediately began to kick out, but Jim was able to retrieve the gun with only one kick weakly connecting with Jim's calf.

Artie struggled to maintain his control of the pair with just his foot as the doctor began to flail more aggressively. Jim secured Loveless's gun and then resumed holding the doctor's legs. Artie whispered to Jim, "I don't see the syringe."

"I didn't either. It must be under them somewhere," Jim said.

"You better get Kat clear of them," Artie suggested.

"Permit me to help, mes amis," Renaud Girard offered. After he instructed a quivering Kitten not to dare move, he firmly placed his foot next to Artie's pushing his more substantial weight upon the pair of downed villains. "Artemus, why don't you give James a hand moving his wife since your arm is in better shape than mine?"

Artie hurried to Jim's side to help lift Kat out of danger. With due care for the chance the syringe lay somewhere in the linens next to or underneath Kat, Artie assisted Jim as he picked his wife up into his arms.

"Is she all right Jim?" Artie asked as Jim gazed into his wife's face closely for the first time in months.

"She's breathing fine. She must just be exhausted."

"Any wonder that?" Artie quipped. "This child birthing is for the birds!"

"Your time is coming soon, Artie," Renaud said.

"No, that was just part of the decoy set up. I would never have let Lil participate in this had she really been pregnant. What kind of a cad do you think I am?" 

"The kind I'd always like to have in my corner," Renaud grinned.

"Hear, hear," Jim nodded. "Thank you gentlemen."

"Jim, how bad does Voltaire look?"

"I've had worse — on several occasions. Far as I can tell, his side was grazed," Jim said.

"I'm surprised that dropped him," Inspector Girard said.

"Some big men just can't take a punch!" Artie quipped.

"Jim, what happened?" Kat roused.

"In the end, it was Voltaire who saved your pretty hide."

"He's not dead, is he?"

"That depends, my darling Olga," Jim jested.

"What do you mean?"

"If I think you and he are planning to run off together, he's a dead man. Otherwise, he'll be fine."

"What?" Kat asked, confused and dazed.

"I read your diary."

"From that you jumped to me running off with Voltaire?"

"No, but I have a feeling based on the diary and what he did for you here today, that he might like to." Jim winked at his wife.

Kat shook her head. "You poor sweet, misunderstood and mistreated man," she said reaching out for Voltaire. Voltaire began to come around.

Artie reached down and extended a friendly hand to help Voltaire up. "Come on, ya big lug. Uncle Artie will patch you up. I'm an expert, just ask Jim." Voltaire docilely took Artie's hand and began to rise with his assistance. A high pitched yelp of pain escaped his lips as he moved and then noticed the blood on his side once more. He passed out again. "I told you," Artie said looking directly at Renaud, "some big men just can't take a punch."

"I do not suffer from that problem, mon ami," Renaud joked in reference to his own wound as he continued to pin down Loveless and Antoinette. However, Loveless's consistent efforts to squirm free from beneath Inspector Girard's large foot suddenly accelerated. His limbs were violently flailing. Renaud nearly lost his balance. "What do you want me to do with them?" Renaud asked as he removed his foot from Loveless's back and reached down with his left hand. He yanked the little man up by the scruff of his collar.

"For now the cage should do . . . ," Artie started then stopped.

Jim and Artie both stood stock still, eyes transfixed on Loveless. Kat gasped. Inspector Girard, being victimized by flailing limbs one of which hit his wound, yelped and promptly set Loveless down on the floor. Loveless's limbs continued to flail violently and his back began to arch in and out in a similar uncontrolled fashion. "Oh!" was all Renaud could manage to utter as he backed away from the doctor and the four watched Loveless silently for a bit. After a few more seconds, Kat buried her face in Jim's torso, unable to watch any longer.

After a truly horrible minute longer, the diminutive doctor's body began to swell and redden until at last his eyes nearly popped from their sockets and his lips bulged and foamed. Then stillness came at last. The whole time Antoinette remained upon the floor in an apparent catatonic state.

"It's over now, Kat," Jim reassured.

"He was going to inject you with that, Jim!" Kat cried.

"I'm awfully glad he didn't," Jim acknowledged.

"More than you know, Jim," Artie said. "Consider that the dosage Loveless was injected with was originally intended for you, so it was essentially a double dose for him. I'd say that probably took minutes off his suffering that you weren't going to be granted."

"Artie, did you have to go and say that?" Jim shook his head.

"What, you want I should lie?" Artie asked.

Jim's eyes glanced downward towards Kat.

"Oh, sorry Kat. I didn't mean, well, you know," Artie apologized.

"Artie, how about as penance you stay down here with Renaud and take care of clean up while I get Kat upstairs and see about finding my son?"

"Certainly, James! My pleasure."

"And Artie, don't start thinking you're off the hook yet because later we are going to have a talk about how Lily ended up as Kat's midwife and just how many things might have gone wrong as a consequence!"

"Right, Jim, later." Artie smiled broadly and waved Jim towards the stairs. "Much later is my guess," Artie said with a wink to Renaud as soon as Jim ascended the first step and not caring if Jim heard.

"I think he will be distracted for quite some time to come," Renaud nodded in agreement.

As Jim carried Kat up the stairs, she stared at him, eyes crinkled and trying not to blink. "This is real, Jim, isn't it?" Kat wondered aloud.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Because I've imagined this moment a thousand times since I was taken, but it was never this bloody messy in my dreams."

Jim laughed at her. "How I have missed you, darling Olga." He bent his head down and kissed her forehead before she fell back to sleep.


	18. The Wrap Party

Chapter 18 - The Wrap Party

Kat needed intensive rest and recuperation for a couple of days. Jim barely left her side and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future. He'd come so close to losing Kat and their as yet unnamed child that he couldn't bear to risk it again. He wouldn't.

Artie and Lily visited them as soon as possible. The four reviewed what happened at the chateau and how it played out. Lily explained her nearly sleepless night before the rescue, during which she learned as much midwifery as one could in such time from the real Sister Agathe. Although Sister Agathe was willing in spirit to help with the rescue, she was simply not physically up to the task, resulting in Lily stepping into the role.

Artie reassured Jim that the real Sister Agathe and a doctor were waiting not far outside the gate the whole time. The plan he'd hatched was that Inspector Girard, spying from outside, would have gone to retrieve them had Lily expressed any concern about the birth proceeding simply, instead of Girard coming inside as a reinforcement. Jim knew this was true, having seen the real midwife and doctor after the incident ended, but Jim admonished Artie anyway.

Artie's protestations about a lack of time to talk to Jim about the plan fell on deaf ears.

"You or Renaud could have passed me a note explaining the plan."

"What if Loveless saw it?"

"I'd have eaten after I read it or used it for toilet paper. Honestly, Artie, Renaud slipped me weapons and a lock pick and you were worried about a piece of paper?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Damn straight."

"Maybe I had a good reason for not cluing you into the exact plan? You know you tend to get side-tracked from the plan half the time anyway," Artie suggested.

"Fess up, Artie. You were so enamored of job you did getting Lily to look like Sister Agathe that you didn't think I'd recognize Lily!" Jim accused.

"Well, let's just say that I thought you'd be plenty distracted by other goings on and wouldn't notice. I certainly didn't expect Lily to go right up to your face to test the disguise close up." Both Artie and Jim looked at Lily accusingly.

"Improvisation is the heart and soul of acting!" Lily deflected. "Loveless's absurd story about Jim as a rapist just demanded a little theatrical interplay."

Lily soon regretted opening her mouth, because what followed next was heaps of ribbing for her verbal and physical slips during her act as old sister Agathe. The worst of it came from her husband. Jim was so terrified for Kat and the baby when the events unfolded that he wasn't ready to find the humor in it yet.

"Just you wait until you get back on stage again, Artemus and I pick apart your performance acted under no more pressure than the reviewer's pen! I acted with weapons drawn in the room and still managed to deliver a healthy baby in the middle of my act! Have you ever done that?"

"No, but I have been known to lay an egg, occasionally!" Artie admitted. With a single quip, Artie brought the house down ending the critical review of their encounter with Loveless.

"But what has become of our surviving criminals?" Lily insisted on knowing. Kat had been quiet about that, however, as if afraid to hear the wrong answer.

"I only care about Voltaire. What happened to him?" Kat asked.

"He is in a safe place healing, my love. No worries," Jim patted her arm.

"Will he go to jail?"

"I suppose we could extradite him back to the States where he would spend the rest of his days in jail for his crimes committed at the behest of Loveless, or to Spain where he participated in a bank robbery and two murders," Jim said, his light tone undercutting his words. "Don't you look at me with those eyes like that! He was fully in on this crime from kidnapping you to near the bitter end when he finally broke."

"Jim, what will happen to Voltaire?" Kat said calmly and softly.

"Are you saying you don't think he belongs in jail?" Jim challenged.

"I think he has spent his entire life in a sort of jail not of his own making. I think he deserves a chance at another kind of life," Kat pleaded.

"Yes, well, now that we know the truth of the matter, it's hard to disagree, Kat," Artie said. "A castrato. I never would have guessed."

"But not at the youngest age," Lily said, "not for him to have grown so much. It must have been done late."

"All the worse for him," said Jim grimacing. Artie nodded in agreement.

"Now please, before it's time to feed the baby again, tell me what will happen to poor Voltaire," Kat insisted.

"I think I have found a reasonable resolution. He'll be going to a monastery in Italy, one known for their choir," Artie said.

"Thank you, Artemus," Kat sighed in relief.

"All right you boys, skedaddle. Give us girls a little alone time while Kat feeds little what's his name," Lily jibed.

"Maybe you two should work harder on that name soon, you know, like before he has a sibling," Artie suggested. The boys went out of the room and sent the nurse with the baby into the room with Kat and Lily.

"Hey, don't look at me, buddy," Jim carped to Artie in the next room. "All I did was reject Voltaire, Cherubino and Amadeus!"

"At least she didn't try to get you to name him Wolfgang!"

"The hell she did too!" Jim laughed, shaking his head.

"Do you think she'll be okay, Jim?"

"It's going to take some time. She's putting on a brave face now, but once we get back out into the world, Artie, it will be hard for her. She survived a lot already, though. She'll get through this too."

"How about you, Jim? You're going to have to let go of the guilt and anger at yourself eventually if you want to move forward."

Jim shrugged. "He stole nearly five months of our lives. I wasn't there for her at such an important time."

"Dare I remind you that you two foolishly wasted a year apart not long before that through no one's fault but your own?"

"Your point, Artie?"

"We can't change the past, but we can improve the future by not repeating our mistakes. Put it behind you, Jim. Seize the time you have, don't waste it on what's gone by."

"I'll do my best, Artie. I'd feel better if we heard back from Renaud before we leave."

"I'm sure we'll hear from Renaud soon," Artie said. "Besides, with Loveless dead — and he most assuredly is that this time — I don't think we have much to worry about from Antoinette or Kitten."

"Hell, Kitten already shot me and Renaud without even trying. Imagine if she had been aiming! As to Antoinette, I just don't know. Accidentally injecting Loveless pushed her into that catatonic state, but who knows how long it will last? What if she comes out of it and comes gunning for us? I need to know she's safely locked away."

"I know, Jim. I'm certain it's on the gals' minds too."

True enough, in the other room, Lily and Kat were wrestling with the same worries.

"What do you think they are keeping from us?" Kat asked Lily.

"What happened to that wretched Antoinette?" Lily guessed.

"Jim said that Inspector Girard took her," Kat said.

"Yes, but what happened to them afterward seems to be in question."

"I suppose I'd feel a lot safer if I knew for certain what happened to them," Kat admitted.

"I don't know that we will ever feel entirely safe, that with the men we chose, we ever can be free of the demons of their past," Lily sighed.

"My past wasn't a whole lot safer," Kat admitted.

"We'll muddle through, Kat, us and our men and our children," Lily reassured her.

"Children, Lily? After you left the chateau with the baby, Artie said you had made up the bit about you being pregnant as part of a cover story. Artie said he'd never have let you do that midwife act if you'd really been pregnant."

"Certainly not if he'd known, he wouldn't have," Lily said archly.

"Lily, are you?" Kat brightened at the thought.

Lily nodded affirmatively with a big smile. "Yes, but keep the cat in the bag a bit longer until I can tell Artie."

"That's what I was doing when Loveless grabbed me, Lily. I spent every day regretting not having a chance to tell Jim myself, to see his face."

"Look at his face now. He's delighted, besotted with love. It would have been just like that."

"Promise me you won't put it off long, Lily!" Kat begged her.

"Tell you what, by the time you give your baby a name, I'll have told Artie," Lily winked.

"Fink!" Kat yelled out, "Jim, come rescue me from this crazy woman!"

Jim and Artie rushed in. "What's the problem?"

"Lily had so much fun delivering my baby that she wants to go on stage playing the part of a midwife and deliver an actual baby on stage!"

"It's brilliant, Lil!" Artie encouraged. "I mean, there is a bit of a problem in timing. I don't know how long an audience would wait for the scene to end. And of course the mother might scream right over your lines. And all that blood and fluid would make the stage quite slick. And . . . ." Jim stopped Artie from continuing by putting a hand over Artie's mouth.

"It's a joke, Artie, just a joke," Jim said looking to Lily for confirmation. She just shrugged coyly. A knock on the door interrupted their revelry. Jim went to answer it. "What is it?"

"It's a message for you and Monsieur Gordon, sir." Jim opened the exterior door to the voice of the armed guard he'd hired and took the envelope.

Mes amis,

My apologies for taking so long to get back to you. Let me bring you up to date on recent events on my end.

Gascon took Mademoiselle Twitty to Paris where she was to be turned over to the Spanish consulate for extradition. While she could be prosecuted for kidnapping here, my superiors had the brilliant idea to shift the cost of incarceration to Spain where she participated in murder, kidnapping and arson. (Note that Mlle Twitty vigorously denied knowing of Loveless's intent to blow up the florist shop, which action led to the death of the boy. She further claimed that the young woman fell down the stairs to her death and Loveless simply used her already dead body as part of the ruse to abduct Kat. It may well be that she believed these things too. However, since she admits to a role in the kidnapping scheme, I hardly think anyone will be convinced of her innocence on the other charges. She is a dim bulb, that one, as well as a poor shot!)

Meanwhile, Doctor Thiboud and I undertook the transport of Madame Loveless elsewhere. After interviewing Mlle Twitty and searching the chateau, we located the name and location of the clinic where she had previously resided. Again, using the interests of the French treasury as guide, it was decided to return the catatonic woman to the sanatorium in Switzerland. Dr. Loveless had already paid for the entire year's care in advance and documents recovered from the Spanish bank vault show significant family funds that passed to Madame Loveless from her father that should provide for her care well into the future.

Madame Loveless remained in a catatonic state for the entire train journey and all went smoothly until we were on the last leg of our journey in a carriage. During a stop along the road to water and feed the horses, the woman revived and made a desperate attempt to flee. Her effort either met with abject failure or utter success, depending on your point of view. She ran right to the edge of a cliff and proceeded to fall to its depths. In my view, she avoided months or years of incarceration and ultimately the guillotine she deserved, but comme ci comme ça. She is a threat to none of you anymore. To be certain of that, we took the extra days it has taken to get back to you to recover the body.

I will probably suffer most for losing the prisoner, perhaps a small reduction in rank or salary for my neglect. Il est ce bon, however. I will also certainly receive some time off during which I hope to visit with you and your lovely wives at my family's house in Nice. There you may rest and recuperate in peace by the sea before you began your slow journey home. Please let me know by return post when to expect you. Mariel cannot wait to meet you all and hear firsthand of the drama into which you pulled me this time. Quelle aventure!

I enclose some keepsakes of our adventure (even if they might have enriched the coffers of the Treasury). Do with them as you wish.

Your devoted friend and servant,

Renaud Girard

"It's over then, truly over!" Kat sighed.

"I feel like I can let out a breath I've been holding for days!" Lily added.

"What if the letter is fake?" Artie said with complete earnestness.

"Could it be?" both of the women asked in unison.

"No, I recognize Renaud's writing and then there's these," Jim said busting Artie's joke. He dumped the items from the envelope onto the table.

"What are they?" Lily asked.

"They're the rings that Loveless and Antoinette were wearing; the family heirlooms that Loveless was so desperate to retrieve from the bank," Kat said.

"Rings that separately look like broken hearts, but join to together to make two intertwined hearts," Jim added as he demonstrated how they fit together.

"Ah," Artie uttered mysteriously. "I hadn't seen them close up before."

"Hard to believe that Loveless — a scientist — thought sentimental jewelry could improve his future with Antoinette," Jim said with a shake of his head.

"I'd give the little man more credit than that, Jim," Artie objected. "I think he used them quite scientifically. He used them as a psychological tool to draw Antoinette out of her depression. And for a while it worked. If you knew the history of these rings, I think you'd understand that they did something like that once before."

Jim looked surprised for a moment. "You know about them, Artie?"

"Funny thing, that. I do know about them. The only piece I didn't know until just now was that Antoinette was the name of their child. Opera's a small world, and her parents' real lives were a virtual opera."

"Do tell us the story, Artie," Lily begged.

"Don Carlos Vargas and Mademoiselle Angelique Lutece were inseparable from the time they became lovers to the time they married. No matter where she performed, he was there for every performance. They even married at the end of a performance! Then she became pregnant, a fact that can be a little inconvenient for a diva. But it was not to be. In a fall from the stage, she lost the baby. To all reports, she was guilt ridden and inconsolable. There were many who thought she never wanted the child, but the regret of losing it apparently overtook her. She was out of the limelight for two years, nearly long enough to kill a career.

Yet during this time she not only recovered, but had a healthy baby and returned to the stage triumphantly. The story put forth was that all this happened after Don Carlos and she began to wear the unique ring he'd commissioned for them, a band with two intertwined hearts that was then divided into two rings, one for each of them. Thanks to the magic rings, Antoinette was born, and they all lived happily ever after!"

"Artemus, that can't really be how it ended!" Lily argued.

"She's right, Artemus," Kat objected. "I asked Loveless how such special heirlooms ended up in a bank vault and I could tell from his face that all did not end happily ever after."

"Okay, you caught me," Artie smiled. "Things actually went downhill for the don and the diva after that. It turned out that Angelique truly lived for the stage. The child she so desperately wanted may have been nothing more than a dramatization of what she felt they should have, because once she returned to the stage, she showed little care for it. And her husband, he continued to follow her everywhere. Meanwhile, the child was being raised by relatives as the pair traveled the globe.

Soon, however, Angelique began to tire of feeling watched and confined by Don Carlos, his attentions and presence were so overwhelming. He believed she was cheating on him and he started following her all day long. She became unnerved and it showed in her performances. Directors banned him from attending her rehearsals and performances which helped, but he would he there waiting, watching afterward. He was going mad with jealousy. As far as anyone knew, he had no just cause. Then one night after a triumphant performance, Angelique slipped out in disguise. Don Carlos tracked her down and no one is certain of the exact details of what happened to them afterward except that she'd been poisoned and he threw himself off a bridge into the Seine and drowned."

"That's disturbingly parallel to what happened to Loveless and Antoinette," Lily shivered.

"A bit, yes," Artie acknowledged. "Fortunately, Antoinette and Loveless didn't leave behind a child as her parents did."

"That we know of," Jim clarified.

All heads snapped towards Jim. He shrugged. "I don't take anything for granted when it comes to Loveless."

"You do believe he's dead? You saw it happen with your own eyes," Lily asked with alarm.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that. Still, who knows what he's left behind? He loved Antoinette, but there have been other women with him through the years."

"Oh, what a horrible thought!" Kat said.

"But any evil children would be young. We should have a good fifteen to twenty years before we have to worry about revenge plots by bastard children!" Jim chuckled at the joke he'd set up.

"Don't worry, we'll keep you ladies safe until then!" Artie assured.

Kat and Lily both huffed at them.

"Shall we join Inspector Renaud and his wife in Nice before we go home everyone?" Artie asked, aware it was time to change the subject.

"Yes," Lily pounced. "I would adore a few relaxing days at the beach after this last week."

"Yes," Kat agreed. "I could use a change of scenery that doesn't involve being cooped up closely before we sail home in a claustrophobic inducing little cabin."

"Yes," Jim added, "especially since we really have not yet established a home to go back to yet, Kat." Jim took Kat's hand in his. "We have some big decisions to make, starting with where we go once we get off the ship!"

"You know you two are welcome to stay with Artemus and me in New York for as long as you like," Lily graciously offered.

"I agree with Lily on that point, but there's a more important reason to join Renaud in Nice first," Artemus said in a teasing tone. "Because I, for one, refuse to board a ship for a ten day journey with that baby unnamed and everyone asking about it all the time!"

"Just wait, Artie, just wait until your time comes," Jim smiled. "It's a big decision, you'll see. After all, you don't want to stick a kid with a moniker like Herodotus if you live in Chicago," Jim smiled.

"Or anywhere," Lily grimaced. "Maybe a visit to the beach would prove a good time for us to discuss such things well in advance, Artemus?" Lily lilted.

Artie's head snapped towards his wife. "How far in advance, Lil?" his eyes focussed in a bead on Lily.

Lily's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I'd say a little less than six months sounds about right!"

Artie impulsively swept his wife up in his arms. "You knew. You let me put you in that danger, and you knew! I asked you straight out and you lied to me! I'm so mad at you, Lil, so very mad at you . . . so very mad about you." He shook his head and kissed her. "I'm going to be a father, Jim, did you hear that! Me, a father!" Artie's voice boomed through the room.

"Yes, Artie. I think the entire hotel knows about little Herodotus Gordon now. Congratulations, buddy," Jim winked before he moved to his wife and baby's side and kissed Kat's cheek. He whispered into her ear: "Herodotus West?" Even Jim would admit that Kat's elbow in his side was his just deserts.

The End

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